


Cocaine for Breakfast

by guccikings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs in a Car, Blowjobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Depressed Louis, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealer au, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempt (past), Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, OT5 Friendship, Oral Sex, POV Louis, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Harry, Top Louis Tomlinson, Violence, a lot lot lot of angst, because they kind of share that reaaally, mentions of self-harm (past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 291,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guccikings/pseuds/guccikings
Summary: “It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.or,- Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I planned this story a long time ago, I started writing it in early 2015 and wasn't very happy with the outcome, so I re-wrote the whole thing and turned it into a larry fanfic. It got kinda out of hand, in a good way, and saved me in so many ways back in 2016. This work is my heart and my soul hence my baby, haha, anyway...
> 
> Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, made up entirely. Nothing ever happened, plus I don't see any of the boys or their families in this light. I don't want offend anyone with this. I just wanted to have some fun and write something I really wanted to read. Also I'm a huge fan of The 1975 so there is where my inspiration came from, mostly the Robbers Music Video though, haha. 
> 
> That being said, for the benefits of this story I only tagged the necessary stuff to prevent spoilers, however, if you have any concern about a plot point, a character or anything at all just pop by for a chat on tumblr or twitter. My username is @harryeatsburger on both. And if you think something else should definitely be tagged, let me know and I'll change that asap. I won’t give any trigger warning for each chapter; violence, drug use, some blood and depression are 'big' parts of this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with it, stay safe and read on your own terms, however I don't think it's too bad though, but that's just me. 
> 
> A great thank you goes to everyone I talked to on tumblr and twitter, every single one of you has been very kind, helpful, patient and lovely. 
> 
> A special thanks to Chloe (@oneolddirection on twitter) my former beta, it's been a pleasure working with you! :)
> 
> Thanks to my best friend Julia (@tmhlarry on twitter and ilikepianos on a03) for being the most supportive cheerleader there is out there, without you I wouldn't even opened a new document to start writing. Thank you for always helping me out and being there for me. I love you the most. 
> 
> Last but definitely not least: A massive thank you goes to my beta tempolarriefix (@tempolarriefix on tumblr and tempolarriefics on aO3) !! You're so lovely and seriously the best, without you this would probably be a messy read. Thank you for your honest opinions on things. Working with you is really fun. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. 
> 
> So, that all said, I'll upload every Monday from now on. But don't worry, this story is already finished and completed - I just want to give my beta time to work through chapter by chapter! There are 21 chapters in total and the word count is around 300K so it’s gonna be a long ride. I dearly hope someone will enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> Now I’ll definitely shut up haha, this is the longest note ever. 
> 
> Kudos and comments would be a very kind thing, and if you want to chat, you can find me on twitter and tumblr! :)

 

           

 

*  *  *

 

“Fucking shit,” Louis breathes, as he realises it wouldn’t exactly be a good idea to light up a cigarette in the main building of a train station. Swearing under his breath, he tucks the cigarette back into the already damaged pack and purses his lips.

Here he is, waiting for his lovely sister to pick him up. He'd be thrilled to see her again if the situation were different.

Louis looks around, searching for the nearest exit. Maybe he can still escape it, call a cab and hide somewhere far, far away from here. Run back to London, maybe. There is going to be a huge party tonight, he recalls. A heavy sigh escapes his mouth. He catches his lower lip between his fingers, twisting it until it hurts. He could check the trains, he could call someone perhaps. None of his friends own a car but their parents—

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his thoughts, his whole body tensing up as he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

It's a shouted ‘ _hey!’_ , way too loud for this lifeless place.

A bunch of teenagers passing him turn toward the direction of the shout. He ignores it because he still can and counts his heartbeats like fine sand trickling through an hourglass— the last seconds of his freedom.

He closes his eyes, inhales deeply through his nostrils, then exhales shakily. Lets go of his lip, feels it swell. He licks it to smooth it.  

"Louis!" His sister calls, a tad irritated this time. " _Lou!_ "

The sand seeps through completely, his time is up. He forces himself to turn.

Before he can even open his mouth to respond, smile, or run, a smaller body slams against his own. Slim arms wrap around his middle and a nose presses into his hair. He can feel her breath tickling his ear.

“Hey, Lottie,” he mumbles into her shoulder, reciprocating her embrace. The familiar smell of her perfume makes him relax.

The calm doesn’t last long though, because she is crying—of course, she always cries when they see each other after a long time apart.

And God, it has been a really long time.

"Oh my god, it’s —” she sniffs, squeezing herself even more into his space—if that's even possible. "It’s been such a long time."

She’s correct—a year to be exact. He can’t remember the reason why they haven’t seen each other for so long, can’t remember why they didn’t spend his birthday or Christmas together. That's a lie, he knows, but he's already swamped with too many emotions for him to handle and Louis really doesn't want to go down this road.

But, then again, he is here now. It doesn’t matter why he's here, not in this moment, not when he's got her in his arms.

"I can’t believe you’re actually _here_ ,” she says with a grand inhale to get her crying under control. They part and Louis' arms fall to his sides, his hand clenching nervously around nothing.

"Me neither,” he replies slowly, carefully avoiding her big blue eyes that so closely resemble his own. His gaze drifts from the bright jacket Lottie is wearing to her companion, looking far more subdued than she.

"Hello, Louis." Tommy, Lottie’s husband, waves awkwardly when their eyes meet. "How was the train ride?" He doesn’t sound particularly interested, just polite, but Louis couldn’t expect much else.

"Good, good,” he breathes, shrugging frail shoulders. "Would’ve preferred a car though, you know my deal with public transport. Not my cuppa tea."

"Such a princess," Lottie rolls her still-wet eyes but can't quite hide the grin that is threatening to split her face. "You survived it though. I’m proud."

“Barely,” Louis responds, feeling his lips stretch as if it were the first time he’s ever smiled in his life. "All the people, all those weird smells—disgusting." He couldn’t repress a shiver from wracking his frame.

His sister just rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Oh shush, we would’ve picked you up but, you know, normal people like us have to work."

"That’s all right, I truly enjoyed my normal people experience on the train as well."

"Let’s get you home,” Tommy suggests, rubbing his palm over the back of his head. "We've got your favourite kind of tea and I personally really need my bed."

“Tommy worked a night shift,” Lottie whispers as they make their way toward the exit. "He’s just got home, actually."

"Oh wow,” Louis remarks, his eyes trailing across Tommy’s back. He is walking ahead, and now that it has been mentioned, Louis can see the stiff set of his shoulders. That explains why he didn’t join in mocking Louis about his high standards earlier, which would have been very typical of him.

"Is he good to drive?" Louis wonders as they exit the building.

"Let’s find out." Louis and Lottie share a smile and join Tommy in the car.

The reason that he’s there suddenly comes back to Louis as he sits in the backseat, absently gazing out the window. His chest starts to feel a bit heavy, his eyes droop to stare holes in his lap. He’s overwhelmed with an empty feeling, coursing through his veins and washing over his mind. He tunes out the radio and the idle chatter between his sister and her husband.

Out of the blue, homesickness engulfs him, and it's only now that Louis realises he’s going to spend an indefinite amount of time trapped in the borders of this small town. The fact that he’s living with his sister doesn’t make it any better. Worse, perhaps. Lottie doesn’t understand, is the thing. Perhaps she pities him, or perhaps she thinks that spending time somewhere far away from London will do him good like it did for her; he isn’t entirely sure. They might look alike, and they might have the same sense of humour, but, in all honesty, Louis and Lottie are day and night.

While he loves London more than anything else, she hates the city with a passion. While she was quiet in school, he was loud, the class clown. He didn’t give two shits about rules and guidelines, whereas Lottie followed them religiously. While she studied, went to university and graduated, he dropped out before he had a chance to start. He didn’t see the reason to study something he didn’t love.

Lottie was the golden child. And Louis? Louis was the black sheep.

When she met Tommy, a small town boy who came to London to study and happened to take the same classes as her, the decision to leave the city was an easy one. They graduated the same year and two months later they moved back to his hometown, Macclesfield. After they'd both got jobs at the same hospital, they invested in a quaint little house. It was cute. Preppy. A classic Lottie move.

At the time, Louis didn't understand why they moved so far away from London. London was hip, cool, bustling. There was always somewhere to go, someone to see, somewhere to be. How could you leave that? And for this—this sleepy town they were driving through, Louis’ temporary home…

He first visited when they bought the house, even helped them unpack their shit. He visited on Lottie's birthday, stayed for awhile during her pregnancy and spent a whole month thereafter…

He shivers as the thought passes through his mind. _Not a good time._ Instead of focusing on the past, Louis turns his thoughts to the present—hating this fucking city. Macclesfield. He barely suppresses a groan.

 _It’s going to be fine_ , he thinks to himself. Maybe he’ll spend the summer with them and be able to go back to London in the autumn. As something new, something fresh— not this fucked up mess he is right now.

That’s the reason he’s here: to get better. To get away from the party scene, away from his friends, escape the hold of the alcohol and the drugs. He could do it, is the thing. He could have done it while staying in London. He just sort of… lacked the motivation.

Louis fucked up. Majorly. Like, jail time fucked up. His parents found out what he was doing, that he was skipping classes. What ensued was probably the biggest fight in history, and that wasn’t even Louis being dramatic. There was screaming and yelling and tears. Louis didn’t ever allow himself to cry in front of anyone, but that morning… That morning changed everything.

He had two choices: rehab, or moving in with his sister.

It was basically the same bloody fucking thing. Louis is almost one hundred percent certain that in this small town, ‘drugs’ and ‘parties’ were two words they've never heard before. Perhaps they would call the priest on him if he spoke the words out loud. His lips curled into a self-deprecating grin at that thought. Maybe he should try it some time, just walking down the street asking some random strangers where the greatest and biggest parties take place.

That's bullshit, though, to be quite honest, and Louis knows it.

"How was your last night at home?" Louis blinks at Lottie’s question, her blue eyes peeking over her shoulder, body contorted to make eye contact.

He clears his throat, "Packed my stuff, watched a movie."

He shrugs nonchalantly, but feels white-hot shame curling in his stomach. Last night, after his parents had finally allowed him to go up to his room, he snuck out through the window, feeling a bit like a ninja—he might or might not have giggled excitedly at this thought, but nobody can prove a goddamn thing—and went to a party thrown by a friend's friend with the sole intention of telling his people that he would be going away for a while. Well. That plan changed the second some bloke offered him a hit. He leant over some dude’s parents’ coffee table, snorting coke with the rolled up tenner someone helpfully offered him.

After that it was a blur. He recalls changing location, going to a club and splurging on a second hit— this time, what he thinks was GHB—with money he didn’t have, as it turned out. Louis balls his fists in his lap at the fuzzy memory, instead focusing on the second ninja act he pulled off, when he snuck back into his room early the next morning just before his mum knocked on his door, telling him he had to be ready to leave in thirty minutes.

He reassures himself that it was fine to do drugs one last time, a sort of farewell to his old life.

Louis can still feel the aftermath though, his muscles tired and aching. The craving is still there, biting into his fingertips, clawing down the back of his throat, a constant itch that plagues him. He absently rubs his finger underneath his nose and sniffs.

"How are the parents?" Lottie continues when she’s figured that Louis isn’t going to say anything else.

Louis pinches the skin over his wrist in mild irritation and frowns.

 _Yeah, how are they?_ They’re just fine, probably (most likely) ashamed of him. Definitely angry with him, perhaps glad to have one less problem to worry about. They took on the responsibility of driving him to the station this morning— as if he isn't twenty fucking years old, but a bloody child— flanked him left and right, escorting him through the building without giving him any chance to escape. They didn’t trust him and he certainly can’t blame them, but that doesn't change the fact that he was and still is bitter about it.

"They’re good,” he eventually says out loud, feeling tense again. "Mum cried." A lot. Sobbing against his shoulder, whispering that he's going to be okay again. That it’ll do him good to be away. That this time spent with his sister will fix him, clear his head. "Told me to say hello," which is a complete lie—all they said was, "Don’t do anything stupid,” then watched when he turned and stepped onto the train.

"That’s nice of them,” Lottie smiles, still looking over her shoulder, which is something he could never do—he gets carsick way too easily. An annoying weakness that is. Louis hates feeling weak.

"Maybe they can visit us soon."

Ha—they would never. They had always been married to their jobs. Sometimes they even looked surprised seeing him in the living room, as if they'd forgotten he was still living with them.  

But money is money and family is second rank. Priorities, and all that.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Louis responds, his voice is strained, his mouth feeling dry. When will they finally arrive at home? He sort of feels like he's spent his whole life in this fucking car already.

Lottie turns around, then, and Louis exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"We could have a BBQ,” Lottie says, more to herself than anyone else. Tommy reaches for her hand as he takes a turn to the left. "Like old times," she adds.

Maybe Louis isn’t the only one who's a little bitter.

At least they noticed how bad of a state Louis was in and took action—which means that they must at least care to some extent, right?

Right.

Tommy thankfully pulls the car into the driveway, then, and when Louis inhales the first bit of fresh air he looks up to the sky. He silently wills it to swallow him whole.

 

*   *   *

 

The house is too small, but nonetheless nice—a bit too posh for this part of the city, but it feels like a good place to settle down. Maybe a little bit of London stuck with Lottie after all.

Tommy immediately heads up the stairs towards the master bedroom and Lottie walks off to the kitchen to prepare tea or lunch or whatever. Louis has never bothered to try and learn how to cook. Takeaway is a thing and it works perfectly fine for him, thank you very much.  

He's still standing somewhere between the hallway and the living room, feeling itchy and tired from the train ride and the night before, of course. He yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth and scratches his neck, feeling a bit out of place. He lifts his duffel bag, balancing the dead weight on his shoulder precariously. In all honesty, he didn’t pack a lot—there was no need for his Gucci clothes or his brand new watch in this small town in the middle of fucking nowhere. He ended up just packing loads of sweats and jeans. He didn’t start packing until it was already a tad too late, so he’s probably forgotten most of his things anyhow. That being said, the heaviness of his bag that is pulling down his bloody shoulder is truly uncalled for.

"You want a cuppa?" Lottie asks, sticking her head out of the kitchen and slowly raising one eyebrow.

Louis shrugs, then shakes his head. "Nah, I think I’ll just-" He makes a weird hand movement towards the stairs. "Go and have a lay down, maybe."

Lottie purses her lips. "Are you alright?"

"Yep, everything’s just…peachy.” He gives a thumbs up, plastering the most enthusiastic grin he can muster on his face, and points towards the stairs again. "I just need to—” he stumbles backwards, slightly, barely catching himself at the railing. "I’m tired," he explains as he carefully rights himself, praying Lottie doesn’t ask too many questions.

She purses her lips and nods, putting on an equally forced smile, "Well, you don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. I’ll show you your room."

Before he can even open his mouth to decline the offer, Lottie is already going ahead, leaving the mugs on the kitchen table with a soft tut. He follows her up the stairs, watching her long blonde hair swing from side to side.

"Your hair looks great,” he says to fill the silence.

She throws a quick glance over her shoulder, offering him a smile. "Thank you," she turns around again as they reach the top floor.

"We turned Tommy's office into a guest room just in case you'd stop by," Lottie smiles again.

 _She’s done that a lot today,_ Louis thinks, absently. Where is she getting all that happiness and all that energy from? It’s nearly too much for Louis to comprehend.

"Well thought out,” Louis praises in the lapse of conversation. He certainly does prefer a proper bed to a couch.

Lottie opens the door and Louis takes in the room in front of him.

Where once stood a massive desk, there's now a twin sized bed pushed against the wall. The window paints the room in bright light, the white walls irritating his eyes just a tad. There's a small closet opposite the bed. Its door is adorned with a mirror which is reflecting the sunlight and casting rainbow prisms around the room. There's a vase with pink flowers — Louis isn’t certain, but he believes they may be carnations — on the small desk. That is practically it, nothing fancy, just simple IKEA furniture, but it smells nice and he can look outside to watch cars and passersby. It’s perfect for his short stay.

It's nothing compared to the level in his parents' city house that used to be all his own. There he had his own living room, a kitchen, an office, a guest room—which used to be Lottie’s— and a huge bathroom with a claw-foot bathtub in the centre, a rain spray shower head adorning it.

Of course, Louis wouldn’t complain, even if there was a problem. This is still a lot better than the room in the rehab centre he would have had to share with a complete stranger. So he offers his sister a grateful smile and pulls her into a short hug. "I love it. Thank you."

It's not even really a lie. It's the situation he detests. Not his sister, her house, or this room.

"It’s nice to have you around again, you know,” she admits softly as they part.

"Where is Tommy's office now?" Louis asks, feeling slightly awkward with her blue gentle eyes on him, expecting him to say something meaningful or…emotional in return, when all he wants is to sleep and never get up again. Besides, it's a fair question. Tommy had loved his office more than anything else. Maybe that’s why their parents were pleased with him when they first met.

“Oh,” Lottie starts frowning. "We—uh. We put it in, you know…the nursery."

Now it's Louis' turn to frown. "What?"

"Yeah, we kinda stopped getting our hopes up again and we gave everything away, after…"

"Oh, Lots." He pulls her back into his arms for a short moment, awkwardness in his bones be damned, it’s his big sister, after all. He is not a complete asshole. “I’m so sorry."

"It’s fine, I’m fine." Effectively changing the topic, she turns and opens another door across the hallway. "This is the bathroom, all yours to use."

"Lovely,” Louis really tries, he does, but his smile feels strained, the sadness still settled in his stomach.

"You go unpack your stuff, I'm gonna make us some lunch, yeah?" Without looking back she ambles down the stairs, posture upright and elegant like the queen she is.

Finally having some solitude for the very first time since he got on the train this morning, he turns back to his room and sighs. Before he actually starts unpacking his shit, he gives into the craving for a cigarette.

After quite carelessly throwing his bag on the bed, he pulls his battered pack out of the side pocket and quietly hums under his breath, fumbling for his lighter. Lottie won’t mind, he tells himself as he opens the window and sits down on the window sill. He lights his cigarette and he closes his eyes, letting the smoke fill his lungs and the void inside of his chest.

Under the invisible pressure of recovery his shoulders slump forward and he presses his palms against his eyes. As he starts to see colours and blurred patterns dancing behind his closed lids, he opens them again, trying to blink the exhaustion away.

_No, no, no._

The sinking feeling spreads from his chest to the bottom of his stomach, tugging until it reaches his legs. It makes his head feel heavy and he knows it's not because he's tired, he knows this feeling all too well and the only thing that could make it better is entirely out of reach.

Louis begins hating himself more and more as he realises that he ruined it all with just one careless night.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, quietly watching the street. There isn’t much to see, the houses all look pretty much exactly alike, there aren't any cars passing by, no kids outside—perhaps they're still in school—and the only audible noise is the TV from downstairs and some birds in the nearest tree, chirping their song.

His dreadful thoughts are way too loud for the silence around him and he absolutely detests it. Nothing there to distract him. His pinky twitches as he taps the end of the cigarette filter. He watches as the smoke curls in front of him.

Inhale…

Exhale.

He stumps out the cigarette and throws it on the driveway. Stretching his arms above his head, he yawns, his spine cracking, and rolls his shoulders back. Then he gets up and begins unpacking his stuff and filling his new closet.

He is just folding a shirt when he remembers his phone. He turned it off earlier because he really didn’t have the desire to contact anyone, but now he is beginning to wonder if anyone has noticed that he's gone. They're probably still asleep though, just like he should be. It's still way too early for his liking.

His musings soon get interrupted by Lottie calling him down for lunch, so he drops his halfway folded t-shirt on the bed and makes his way downstairs.

 

*  *  *

 

The tomato soup burns his tongue while the toast gets stuck between his teeth but it’s lovely to do this: have lunch with his sister and her husband—who came back down after some coaxing and the promise of a longer nap next time. Lottie is talking his ear off— she never runs out of something to say, which is just fine. As long as she’s rambling he doesn’t have to say anything. Instead, he tries to listen to her make jokes about her co-workers, to the story about a family that adopted a baby, listens to her mocking the doctor she works under that nobody can stand. He smiles at the right places, laughs when her eyes catch his own and groans when she works her way to the highlight of her stories, but he isn’t really… there.

Louis feels homesick in a way he can’t admit out loud, overwhelmed with the urge to get away from here. It makes him itchy all over.

There has to be a pub nearby, right? It might not be exactly what he wants but it will get the job done.

Trying hard to sit still, he breathes slowly through his nose, scratching his jaw, moving it from left to right to get rid of that weird humming feeling underneath his skin, which won’t let him concentrate.

No matter how much he scratches or digs his finger into his skin, it stays, making his head pound with every beat of his heart. His temple vibrates, the thin layer of skin actually fucking moving— how is that possible? It’s like there is a heartbeat in his whole head, threatening to split it in half at any given moment. He imagines his head just exploding, right there and then on the kitchen table in Lottie’s house, imagines them stopping mid-sentence, slack-jawed with shock when the leftovers of Louis' head just stick to the ceiling and walls, his blood just as red as the tomato soup.

Disgusted by his own horrific thoughts, he puts his spoon down and hides his shaky hands beneath the table surface. They shake so violently that he thinks the legs of the table must be rattling with them, and he folds them in his lap tightly.

The worst thing of all is, Louis knows exactly what this is about.

And it’s not the cigarette he’s crying for, no. It’s something much harder, something that makes him forget. He can pretend it’s the nicotine he needs, though, just for a little while longer.

Louis was so foolish to think being here would make him a different person right away—that he would step over the doorstep and _poof_ —all the longing transformed into something else…something that won’t get him high or make him suffer. It shouldn’t feel like this, being here, and Louis feels betrayed by his mother’s words.

 _“You’ll get better_ ,” she said.

 _“Everything will be fine,”_ she said.

He is not fine, this isn’t helping, and all he wants to do is to pack up his shit and go back to where he came from.

London, his kingdom.

London, his freedom.

Louis almost can smell the city’s air, taste liquor on his tongue and feel sweaty bodies pressed against him from every angle, every side. He must have zoned out for several moments, because he’s startled when Lottie says his name. His gaze is met by two worried faces when he looks up.

“Are you okay, Lou?” Lottie asks, putting down her spoon in favour of touching his arm. It should be soothing, the warmth of her hand on his skin, instead he pulls away from her touch. It’s not.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers instead of voicing his disturbing thoughts, giving her a tight smile, “I’m fine.”

Pursing her pink lips, Lottie eyes him in suspicion and he holds his breath, knowing first-hand that she’ll call him out on his bullshit, try to talk with him about it. A moment later, she goes back to her food with a small sigh, spooning some of it into her mouth. She swallows without a word.

Louis visibly relaxes again, leaning back in his chair as he gulps down the rest of his water, feeling it settle in his nearly empty stomach.

“I thought Lara wanted to come over?” Tommy asks over the rim of his glass, probably trying to get rid of the tension in the little kitchen.  

Louis frowns, eyes flickering from Tommy to Lottie and back. He has heard that name before, he is sure of it, but by the will of God he can’t remember who the hell Lara is.

“Oh!” Lottie covers her eyes in realisation, peeking through the gaps of her fingers, she says, “You're right, she wanted to pop by after lunch.”

Clicking his tongue, he feels the irritation creeping up on him, “Who is Lara?” he asks, confused.

“The girl living next door, she’s a sweetheart.” Lottie smiles at him brightly. “She’s excited to meet you, finally.”

Please no.

“Today? Why?” He whines like a little boy, “Lottie I’m tired I don’t want to meet—”

He’s cut off by the ringing of the doorbell, because — of course, it’s just his bloody luck.

“That must be her.”

 _Let it be the postman_ , he thinks, watching Lottie squeeze Tommy’s shoulder and leave the kitchen to answer the door, let it be someone asking for sugar, condoms—anything.

“Lara, hey, we were just talking about you.”

_Dear God, let me die._

He bites his lip as Lottie comes back into the room. Trailing behind her is a girl, roughly the same size as his sister. As he takes in the company in front of him, he closes his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts and trying to find a way out of this situation in the smoothest way possible.

“Hiya, Tommy,” he hears Lara say, her voice high but somehow warm. “Y’alright?”

Louis opens his eyes again, brushing his damp hair off his forehead, he can feel the sweat underneath his fingertips, which is disgusting.

“M’fine thanks.” Tommy returns the smile, taking a sip of his water after, eyes flickering to Louis and when he doesn’t react, he kicks his shin, making Louis startle where he is seated.

As Louis’ eyes narrow in betrayal, Tommy simply winks at him. Rubbing the sore spot, he grits his teeth. Maybe they think they are doing him a favour. They are not considering that he had no interest in making friends. Louis bites his tongue, the smile forming on his lips feels odd and it’s more a grimace than anything else.

“You must be Louis.” Lara says just then, holding out her hand for a shake.

 He eyes her hand, and as she notices he won’t take it, she lets it fall to her side.

“You must be…” Louis knows he’s being a little shit, but can’t help it. He’s obviously not in the mood to be friendly. He is tired and irritated and he just wishes his sister would understand.

After a moment of confused silence she says, “Lara.” As if he should know that already, which he does, but anyway.

“Right.” He gives her a thin smile.

Lottie and Tommy share a look over his head. Great, hopefully they already regretting this as much as he regrets getting on that train. Awkward silence fills the room in a blink of an eye, making it hard to breathe.

 _Good job, Louis, well done,_ he thinks to himself as Lara’s smile drops from her small face.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Louis inhales, clenching his hands into fists where they’re still resting in his lap.

“Only good things, I hope.” Louis musters another fake smile and looks up at Lara.

He would have missed the knowing shine in her eyes if he did so much as blink. It’s the last straw, his irritation gaining the upper hand and with all the strength that’s left in his bones, Louis gets up from his chair. If she’s not leaving, he definitely is.

He glares Lottie’s way, who looks all too innocent, smiling widely when his eyes met hers. She raises a challenging eyebrow.

Lara opens her mouth before he has a chance to leave the kitchen. “My friends and I are gonna hang out tonight, if you wanna join?”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise at the offer— he’s been nothing but rude towards her so far, why would she even ask that now that it was clear Louis has no interest in her whatsoever.

Lara grins as if she had won.

Doesn’t she get the hint that he wants nothing to do with her?  Did his sister pay her for this or what? Why would she want to hang out with him?

He already opens his mouth to tell her off but then he catches Lottie’s glare, which says he really, really should say yes to this if he wants to sleep in the bed tonight and not on the street.

“Alright.” He sighs, willing his lips to form another smile, at least he’d get rid of her until the evening, “See you tonight.”

“Grand!” Lara’s face lights up, looking genuinely happy that he said yes, “I’m off then.”

 _Finally_ , Louis thinks, lips twitching.

“See ya.” She waves, smiling sweetly at Lottie and Tommy who say their goodbye and see you laters.

Before she leaves though, she turns around, standing in the doorway, tapping a finger against the doorframe.

“Actually,” she says, pursing her lips she eyes him up, thinking through something before her eyes widen and she smiles even brighter than before. “There’s a movie playing this afternoon. _Zombies Against Aliens_ , got good reviews,” she shrugs, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

Louis’ left eye twitches, but instead of saying ‘no’ like he really wants to, he copies her shrug, “Sounds great.” His voice is thick with sarcasm but that doesn’t stop her from grinning widely. “I just gotta go change, yeah?” Because he had no intentions to leave the house today, he hadn’t bothered to shower, his hair is sticking to his forehead and he still is wearing the same clothes he wore on his little travel journey. He feels disgusting.

Lara passes him, flopping down on his chair. “Hurry though,” she says before getting into a conversation with Lottie and Tommy, who look more than happy by the successful match-making, friendship creating or whatever the hell is going on here.

Swallowing, he leaves the kitchen. Finally alone in the living room, he exhales, ruffling his hair in exhaustion.

With slumped shoulders and heavy feet he makes his way up to his room, asking himself why the bloody hell he ended up agreeing to this. What’s Lottie’s deal anyway? She knows he’s a people-person, so maybe she really thinks she is helping him out—which would be nice any other day, in any other place but this town. Besides, he’s not a child anymore. He’s confident and quite charming—he can make friends on his own most days, yeah? He doesn’t need his sister to make friends. This is just stupid. Everyone treating him like a fucking child is stupid and uncalled for.

As he passes the pictures on the wall leading up to the second level, he stops in his tracks, can’t help but look at a family photo of all of them.

Lottie and Tommy in each others arms, standing next to his parents, his eyes flickering to a younger version of himself, standing straight, his face blank. Louis remembers the day it was taken. It was the day he graduated from college. The day everything changed.

Swallowing, he takes his eyes off the picture and continues walking up the stairs which is much more difficult now that the tingling feeling of judgmental eyes staring after him lingers on the back of his head. Louis knows he's being stupid when he tries to rub it away. His fingers tangle in his matted hair, tugging at it all the way down the hallway.

Louis wants to cry. If he’s being honest, he wants to go back in time and stop himself from spilling the truth to his mother and her husband. He should’ve known better, even back then.

Family is supposed to love you, whatever fucking mess you are.

Arriving in his room he stands there, taking it all in a second time. It’s so clean, he notices, nothing like his room back home, where his laundry was all over the place, paper flying around, and take-away boxes stacked precariously high on his desk.

Anger hits him all of a sudden, replacing the draining sadness in his stomach, causing him to curl his hands to fists. He thinks maybe it wasn’t Lottie’s idea to get him together with Lara. Maybe his mum had a say in it as well. _You’re gonna be fixed again_. The reminder of his mum’s words makes the blood boil in his veins.

Lottie would never, though. She isn’t like them, she used to be his best friend until she moved. She’s on his side…or is she? Groaning because he can’t figure it out, he throws himself onto the bed, twisting his fingers in the clean white sheets. Covering his eyes with his arms he thinks he’d like being a child again, being allowed to hide under the blankets.  

Not holding back anymore, he lets it happen: lets the crushing emotions weigh him down, press him into the mattress, make his head spin, spin, spin with images and thoughts and words that hit harder than any fists, words that weren’t spoken out loud, but just as clear for him to hear and understand. There’s a lot of pain, a lot of sadness, until his thoughts come to a halt, effectively replaced by the wonderfully familiar feeling of emptiness. What does it matter, what the fuck does it matter? He grinds his teeth together.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he tells himself, staring right ahead at the ceiling, _it doesn’t matter._

He sniffs, his nose running, he wipes it with the sleeve of his jumper.

The craving comes back, and as much as he wishes it was chocolate his heart desires, it’s not. Louis wants one fucking thing and that is to forget. Forget who the hell he is, forget why he is even here. He wants to grip his hair, rip it out piece by piece, and yeah, maybe he’s being dramatic but a situation like this leads to nothing else but throwing a tantrum.  

Louis doesn’t want to go downstairs ever again, he thinks, why should he anyway?

 _Because I’m here to get fucking better_ , Louis answers his own question.

He collects himself, inhaling so deep his normally tiny stomach looks distended under his clothes. He exhales a huff, sitting up, crossing his legs beneath his bum.

He can’t change himself, his parents, or his situation, so he gets up, trying his best to ignore the things that cross his mind—like escaping through the window, calling a cab, and getting the fuck away from this house, this town.

Sighing to himself, he gets to work opening the closet and taking out the first t-shirt and pair of jeans he gets a hold of. Changing out of sweats and jumper, he puts on the simple black tee and pulls his favourite black skinny jeans over his legs—they hug his legs tightly and make him feel a tad better about himself.

He turns his back to the mirror, checking out the way his arse looks over his shoulder.

It looks good.

That solved, he goes to put on black Vans without socks and ruffles through his hair, this time softer than before.

Another look in the mirror tells him not to go outside, good-looking arse or not. Louis leaves his room, anyways, closing the door softly behind him. He tries not to stomp down the stairs too loudly, like the bloody child he isn’t.

It’s only his first day, and he already wants to crawl in the deepest and darkest hole he can find and hide it all out.

 

*   *   *

 

Lara, as it turns out, is a fucking liar. She said the cinema was in walking distance, and it sure as hell was not. It feels like they’ve been walking for an hour under the heat of the afternoon sun, the light making him sweat more than before. His once clean t-shirt sticks to his back and he feels sweat dripping down his temples, sliding off his jaw.

The streets they walked through all looked the same, so maybe Lara is playing him, walking in circles for some kind of sick joke. The awkward silence between them doesn’t make it any better—they ended small talk a while ago when Louis was being a shit and gave short answers—he couldn’t help himself.

Louis is done with the whole situation—he should make a run for it, now that he’s thinking about it. Maybe he could find a pub or some place not as hot as the outside so he could sit the fuck down and smoke a bloody cigarette.

Just as he entertains himself with that very thought, Lara speaks up again.

“What brings you here?” Her voice startles him and he jumps a bit in the air.

Embarrassed, Louis clears his throat, “My sister.” He’s avoiding looking at Lara, staring straight ahead, although he can feel her brown eyes at the side of his head, “Popped by, for a visit.”

He risks a glance at her, taking in her amused expression, the knowing glint in her eyes. He frowns when they make eye contact and she lets out a short laugh.

Sighing, he asks, “What's so funny, little one?”

 “I’m not little.” She pouts, walking on her tiptoes for a couple of steps, “I’m as tall as you are.”

“That’s a lie.”

 “S’not!”

No, Lara is right, she is maybe an inch shorter than Louis but still, if they would stand back to back, there wouldn’t be much of a difference.

“You really don’t wanna be here.”

“Oh, what gave me away?” Louis widens his eyes, clicking his tongue. He can’t help but feel like some moody teenager. Lara raises an unimpressed eyebrow and Louis buries his hands in his pockets, “No, I don’t.” Louis mutters, dropping the act and glancing at the pavement. He figures since Lottie isn’t around to hear, he can admit the truth.

“Why are you, then?” There is nothing but sincere curiosity in her voice and he looks up, meeting her eyes and gazing away quickly. His throat itches.

“Where the hell is this fucking cinema?” he asks, pulling at his bottom lip.

She lets out another of those short laughs, since Louis’ misery is just that hilarious, “Straight ahead, you nut.” She grins.

This time, Lara’s right—there it is, in all its shaggy glory. The cinema had seen seriously better days.

The signs, supposed to be alight, are flickering sadly, like a candle in the wind. The letter ‘C’ is missing and there isn’t even a queue in front of it. Weirdly, it looks fitting for this town; it reminds him of the ‘50s. It has its charm.

“Nice,” he comments drily, eyeing it up blankly, “Looks like something my grandpa would go to when he was still a lad.”

“It’s great,” Lara sighs dreamily, “They play black and white movies on Sundays.”

“I bet they do,” Louis rolls his eyes—the more that comes out of Lara’s mouth the more he’s convinced she’s one of those hipster girls that are all over Tumblr. What next? She invites him along to a The 1975 concert and makes him wear a choker and heavy eyeliner? Louis snorts inwardly.

“Y’know if you wanna back out and do your own thing I wouldn’t say a word.”

“Uh…” Louis slows his steps, humouring himself with the thought of just ambling through the streets for the rest of the day. But he’s tired, all he wants is to sit the fuck down and rest. Lottie would be disappointed if he comes back to the house, so that’s out of the question as well.

“Just saying,” Lara shrugs, when they reach the building, “You can go-oh.” She sing-songs, pushing the door open and leaning against it, “But you’d miss a hell of a night, I’m telling ya.”

What do these small town wannabes know about a good night? Don’t they spend their time reading the Bible, praying their sins away? Drinking warm beer and having a marathon of shit movies while stuffing their faces with homemade food?

The latter doesn’t sound too bad, he muses darkly.

Only one way to find out—but if he gets a glimpse of a bible, he’ll be out in a second.

“Fine, whatever,” he says with an inconsequential flick of his wrist, sighing in surrender, “I’ll come with you.”

Lara grins in triumph, like his presence tonight is actually important to her.

With a last longing glance at the street, he follows her into the building.

To his surprise, the inside of the movie theatre is much more modern than the outside lets on. They are greeted with flickering lights over the bar, changing colours every few seconds and giving a club vibe to the whole thing. The bar, where a delicious popcorn smell is coming from, is a strange metallic white, blue light just beneath the surface.

Comfortable-looking sofas are on the opposite side of the bar, little computer screens on the white coffee tables, to pass the time while waiting for the individual theatre rooms to open up.

While he observes his surroundings, Lara walks up to the woman selling tickets behind a glass window. By the time he catches up with her it’s too late and she’s putting her purse back into her bag.

“You paid for my ticket,” Louis states flatly, blinking at Lara, “You didn’t have to do that.”

While his credit card might be frozen, he still has some cash on him.

“Yeah, I did. Whatcha gonna do about it, eh?” She raises her eyebrows at him.

Amused, his lips turn up just a tiny bit, “Why would you, though? I can pay for myself, thank you very much.”  

“Louis,” she puts her hand on his chest, her tone sweet as sugar, “Does it bother you that a _girl_ paid for you?” Her eyes widen at the end of the sentence.

He clears his throat and tries not to give in to the urge to take a step back, to get her hand off of him.

“That’s not it,”  he says defensively, “S’just not necessary, is all.”

 “Sure, mate,” Lara says, taking her hand off his chest finally. Shrugging, she adds, “Besides, none of my friends cared to join.”

“Has to be some shit movie then.” Louis lets the comment slip out before he can stop himself.

“Hey!” Outraged, she elbows him in the ribs, hard enough to make him wince.

“What’s up with everyone hurting me today?” He rubs his ribs, remembering Tommy kicking his shin earlier.

“Maybe it’s because you’re rubbish,” Lara deadpans, walking toward the room the movie is playing in.

“I can’t believe you lot, here I am trying my best to—” his mouth snaps closed, before he finishes the sentence.

Her brown eyes meet his over her shoulder and he can’t escape the feeling that the girl knows more than she lets on.

“Where d’you wanna sit?” Louis asks to distract her from his almost-slip, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“Somewhere without too many people,” Lara replies, eyes already roaming over the room.

Louis likes her way of thinking, and the dim lights in the room let his shoulders relax. Finding two seats without people surrounding them should be easy since all the chairs are still very much empty. The only company they have is a couple in the far back, snogging like they’re each other’s last meal. The noise mixes with the playlist that is playing softly through the speakers and Louis wrinkles his nose at the sight.

“Zombie movie, huh?“ He whispers to Lara, with another glance at the couple, who remain unbothered by the fact that they've got company. Looking at them too, she giggles, stifling the sound with her wrist.

Lara flops down with a loud groan onto the seat in the middle of a row near the screen.

When she puts her feet up on the seat in front of her, he raises a lazy eyebrow, silently judging her when he takes the chair next to her.

A second later, the judgment turns into mild surprise. The seats are bloody comfortable - it feels like his bum is placed on a massive marshmallow.

It’s so comfortable that he’s instantly relaxed, exhaustion pulling at every single one of his bones. Louis can already tell he won’t make it through the opening credits without falling asleep.

A second later, the dim lights are turned off, the music stops, and the movie starts playing.

Sure enough, his eyelids drop.

“I hate zombie movies.” Lara snorts, next to him.

Blinking and pulling his body more upright, he glances at her confused. He scratches his chin, irritated.

What the hell?

“Excuse me if I ask this but why—”

Lara shushes him with a dark glare, her skin glowing in the flickering lights of the screen.

Louis blinks, once, twice before turning back to the movie, holding in his breath.

Seriously?

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her playing nervously with a necklace he hadn’t noticed before, rolling it between her fingers, while her eyes stay on screen.

His whole body tenses as a zombie crosses the road, walking toward a car with a couple kissing inside.

Blinking he takes it all in, the blood and the heads rolling around.

Lara doesn’t think this is a date? Or does she?

Going back in memory to find out if she ever gave any hints that this is a date, he closes his eyes for a second time. She paid for his ticket, told him girls can pay for guys too or whatever. Is it normal for a date to go like this? He frowns. Louis has no real dating experience himself, so obviously he's not a good judge for that. He was pretty sure that people discuss these things beforehand, but he also figured the guy would be the one to pay, that's what his dad always vowed to him anyway.

What did Lottie tell her? When he gets home he has to have a serious talk with her about setting this up. Even though he's always assumed she was on his side, today is starting to make him think otherwise.

Suddenly he’s not as tired anymore, and his thoughts run all over the place—just when a UFO lands on a skyscraper, lanky figures stepping out and holding up two guns. They run as wild as his thoughts, when a couple of zombies come in reach, ready to eat the aliens’ brains...or summat.

What is the plan? What does Lara have in mind? What is this? _What the hell is this?_

Louis thinks about different ways to slowly kill Lottie when he gets home, if this turns out to be a weird-arse date.

Trying to get a sneaky peek at her in the dark, he spots her out of the corner of his eye, again taking in her nervous body language, her slim fingers still playing with her necklace. Lara’s body is kind of angled towards him, her knees knocked together in his direction while her arm is pressed against his on the armrest between them—which he is only noticing now.

Slowly, trying to not make this awkward, he moves his arm away, crossing his arms across his chest and sinking a tad lower into the marshmallow-like seat.

They’re still close, though. He can smell her flowery perfume. He sniffs, rubbing below his nose. _Whatever_ , he thinks, pinching the skin on his wrist—it’s a horrible habit he picked up a while ago. It’s calming, somehow, concentrating on the pain instead of the weird uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

After about three minutes, he kind of wants to get out of here. Wants to take her up on the offer to let him get away. Now would be the perfect time, he thinks, checking over his shoulder, taking in the few people that made it into the room before the movie started playing.

The green light hanging above the exit mocks him.

Louis could say he needs to use the bathroom, which is a bit cliché, but it gets the job done.

Inhaling deeply, he turns to Lara to tell her the pliant lie, when a movement out of the corner of his eye puts Mission Get-The-Fuck-Outta-Here to a halt.

There’s a man strolling towards them, heavy steps echoing in Louis’ mind as he watches him come closer. The guy ignores the protesting whispers from the people who sit further in the back, as his figure draws a shadow on the screen.

Louis narrows his eyes in annoyance. Can this guy be any more rude? Entering in the middle of the bloody movie and then not even ducking down? No, he has to block everyone's bloody view.

Worst of all, the guy actually plops down in the seat next to Louis with a great sigh, like walking here was purely exhausting for him. For a moment, Louis gets distracted by the smell of cold smoke radiating off the stranger, mixed with a nose-itching cologne. With a swallow, Louis takes in the ashen skin that reflects the lights of the movie and the darkness of his mop of hair.

The guy isn’t looking at him, just props his loud-ass boots on the back of the seat in front of him and starts chewing gum loudly. Louis watches his strong jaw work for a moment, being hypnotised by it, but then the man huffs, turning his head towards Louis with a smirk.

Unashamed, the man takes over Louis’ other armrest, hand wiggling in the air, where it’s loosely angled down by the wrist.

He turns his head away from Louis and back to the screen. Just when he finds his words again, to tell him off, to sit somewhere that’s not in Louis space, Lara leans across his lap, towards the rude, chewing-gum-like-a-cow person.

“Thank fuck,” she whisper-shouts, “I thought you wouldn’t ever show up, what the hell took you so long?”

Great, wonderful, fan-fucking-tastic.

Louis’ nostrils flutter as he tries to control the anger inside his chest.

Lara could’ve let him know beforehand if she was waiting for her boyfriend, but _no,_ she let him think this is a fucking date. He’s all worked up now, and, after the day he’s had, he needs a fucking break from socializing. Rehab sounds like paradise at this point, since this fucking town is driving him insane. Too many emotions, not enough distractions.

Swallowing nothing, since his mouth ran dry the moment he got a sniff of that sticky cologne, he thinks, _at least this is not a date or whatever_. That little bit of information lets him inhale quietly in relief. It almost tames the anger. Almost.

Louis stares down at Lara’s head, since she’s still across his lap and all—they should switch seats. That would be the most logical thing to do, right? Letting her sit next to her very rude, very late boyfriend?

There’s a scream coming from the screen, and he blinks up at it, only in time to get a disturbing glimpse of an alien being eaten alive by a zombie. What the fuck?

This movie sucks, Louis decides, frowning deeply. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The guy says in a slow drawl, taking him so much longer than any other human being to get that sentence through his large pink lips. It's irritating and takes Louis’ focus off the screen, thinking he should be embarrassed at how his body reacts to the deep voice. He stiffens his shoulders to stop the shiver that creeps up on his arms.

He glances at the guy again, seeing him smirk at Lara in such a unctuous way that Louis narrows his eyes, now even more resentful towards the person.

Louis finds his lips are way too large for his face, too plump for a boy, anyway. He represses a snort at the thought that he can only make out those lips because he couldn’t miss them, even in full darkness.

Apparently he’s still made a little noise, gaining the not wanted attention from Rude-But-With-Nice-Looking-And-Plump-Lips.

Though Louis can’t make out the colour of the guy’s eyes, he can feel their piercing glare like a stab, like a needle of sorts. It’s irritating, but he can’t help the blush that is creeping up on his cheeks, as the guy’s bright eyes linger on his face for another moment, before he leans even closer to Louis. He ducks his head down and Louis frowns, confused, until he remembers Lara is still there, and the rude stranger lowers his head only so he can talk to her without disturbing any more people.

“Why is he here? Y’know I don’t like new people.”

Jesus fucking Christ, she’s got a dick of a boyfriend, Louis muses.  

“Awh, darling,” Lara coos, “This is my new neighbour, Louis.”

“Still doesn’t answer why he’s here.”

“If it makes you feel better, I have no idea why I’m here either,” Louis grumbles earning a snort from the guy next to him.

“He’s a bit grumpy,” Lara says, patting Louis' thigh. He tenses at the touch, she sits upright again, “Needs a bit of a break from the city life.” She sends her boyfriend a wink, or maybe her eye just twitches, who knows. Louis still doesn’t know what Lara knows about him. It makes him tense where he’s seated.

“Whatever,” the boyfriend says, uninterested, and turns toward the screen. “What are we watching?”

 Don’t they like…talk before they go see a movie? Does this guy live up his own arse too much to pay attention to his girlfriend? Louis frowns down at his lap, feeling kind of bad for Lara.

“Does it matter?” Lara giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Whatever,” he repeats with a huff, “Why didn’t you buy popcorn? We _always_ share.” He pouts.

So this guy is late, has no idea what movie is playing, and now he’s starting to complain?

Lovely. Wonderful.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“I forgot, sorry, H.” Lara says, not a bit upset about his cold voice, reaching across Louis to pat H’s cheek. He dodges her hand, moving his head to the side to get out of her reach.

Seeing the opportunity to get the fuck out of here, Louis stands up abruptly, startling both.

“I can get some,” he offers, patting his back pockets to check for his wallet.

“No, it’s alright.”

Not expecting to get yanked back down by H’s hand, Louis falls into his seat ungracefully, pressing a hand over his heart in shock, he can feel it racing inside his chest.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.” Louis exclaims, trying to get comfortable again. H’s hand is still on his arm, there’s hot breath on his cheek, and just then he notices how fucking _close_ they actually are. His skin starts to burn where Lara’s boyfriend is touching him. Louis must say, he has not only got a big mouth but also large hands, slender fingers which are pressing into Louis' flesh.

Louis gulps.

As the guy notices Louis glance down, he removes his hand, but the burning stays and Louis tries hard not to think about what that means.

“When you guys are quite finished,” Lara speaks up, leaning once more across Louis’ lap. “Did you bring it?” She lowers her voice to a whisper.

His toes curled in his shoes at the question and instead of the fuzzy heat his brain was filled just moments before, it fills with a different kind of desire.

 _Shut up_ , he tells himself. _That’s not what they’re talking about_.

His brain has a weird way of working, they could be talking about underwear she forgot at his place, or notes from school, or condoms…anything, really.

Lara’s a good girl, all the sarcasm and remarks aside.

Lottie wouldn’t let him run into a situation like this.

She would never.

Closing his eyes and drawing his lip into his mouth, he stops breathing all together. 

Lottie, of course, wouldn’t know if Lara’s doing drugs.

Restlessly, he crosses his ankles, just so he has something to do instead of listening to his thoughts screaming at him.

Run. Stay. Run. Stay.

Wanna get better. Fuck getting better. Must be good. Fuck being good.

“Lara, darling, why else would I be here?” he says with a honey-dripping voice. “It's not your company that I’m drawn to, it’s your money.” Reaching inside the pocket of his black leather jacket, he winks Lara’s way, “Here.”

Louis closes his eyes, doesn’t want to see what they exchange but he can’t quite ignore the heat of their hands near his stomach, or the breath from H tickling his ear. It kind of calms him down and makes his heart shudder at the same time. Maybe it is just the knowledge of what they are doing that makes his heart feel that way, not the closeness of the stranger.

 _Drug dealer_ , he reminds himself darkly.

Taking the risk of opening his eyes, he sighs, seeing it’s over and that H has got the money already in his pocket.

Think again.

Lara puts the drugs in her necklace, which is a brilliant idea, come to think of it, same about the cinema, shitty movie, not a lot of people, a perfect place for a deal.

That’s beside the point though, just seeing the stuff he thought about since he got on that train makes him want to ask for just a sniff, one line, nothing more.

It’s just—it’s right in front of him now, right there.

He wants it so badly, he zones out for a moment.

Taking his reaction the wrong way, Lara squeezes his arm.

“Louis, relax mate,” she whispers in his ear, “It's for tonight.”

H snorts, “Stressing about a bit of coke?” He laughs quietly, like he couldn't think of something more ridiculous. “Why’s that?”

_Yeah, why is that?_

Balling his hands in his lap, Louis sets his jaw, grinding his teeth together with a click.

Louis doesn’t bother answering the dealer, instead concentrating on breathing in and out slowly, the struggle inside of him taking up all of his energy. He must look like a total knob, eyes pressed shut and all.

“If you don’t wanna come tonight I understand, but it’s gonna be fun. Lottie won’t find out.” That’s not helping at all, makes it worse even.

Louis is bloody trying okay? Whatever this weird power is that is testing him today can fuck right off. He needs a break. He needs air. A cigarette…

“You’re Lottie’s brother?”

That brings him back into the present. Opening his eyes, he blinks.

“How d’you know my sister?” Louis hisses, frowning deeply.

The guy shrugs. “Tiny town, I guess.”  Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he grins at Louis, “Also—I know the couple sitting in the back.” He frowns in thought, “Maybe I should’ve said hello.” Pulling his lip between fingers, he shrugs again. “Or not, they were going at it when I came in.”

Louis can’t help but snort at the comment, taking a good guess at which couple H is talking about, shaking his head lightly to get rid of the unpleasant image of them snogging.

“Stop talking, I wanna watch some zombies getting killed.” Lara elbows Louis' arm sharply. This time, he can hold in the wince, but he still rubs absently over the hurting spot. Her elbow is fucking bony.

“Anyway,” H exhales, turning back to the movie.

Louis’ concentration lasts about a minute until his brain does the thing again, reminding him what is hiding away from prying eyes inside Lara’s necklace.

With a dry mouth, he allows himself to think about it, he stops fighting all together.

Yes, it would be easy to go with Lara tonight, getting high and forgetting everything for the night.

Yes, that would set him back for about one day, which is not that bad, right?

Louis could restart tomorrow, it’s not like he would lose a lot in this game.

Doing drugs one more time, wouldn't hurt. Right?

This is his opportunity.

The story forming in his head looks like an innovation, the door already wide open, he just has to take a few steps and he is in.

It’s also his chance to prove he wants to change.

However, the thing is, he’s forced to be here. If he could have it his way, he’d never have left London in the first place.

So why the fuck not?

Like Lara said, Lottie would never find out. All he has to lose is the craving that lets his bones vibrate and his throat go dry, he would also get rid of the never ending headache pulsing on the top of his head.

Exhaling, he ruffles through his hair, sweat damping his palms, he brushes it off on his jeans.

“I’m in.” Louis says out loud before he can stop himself, surprising his company. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees H turning his head towards him, raising a slow eyebrow.

“I knew you’d say yes,” Lara touches his arm again, smiling at him like a proud mother. Louis tries not to think about his actual mother and how disappointed she’d be. Well, to be honest, she has been disappointed in him since he graduated college.

“Alright, now that you guys cleared that, my job here is done.” H stands up, stretching his arms above his head, revealing a tiny bit of skin over the waistband of his jeans. With long slim fingers, he scratches his tummy. He lets his shirt fall down when he notices Louis’ stare.

Turning his head straight, he feels an embarrassing blush creeping on his cheeks. He tells himself it has nothing to do with being caught in the act of staring but with the situation itself.

“By the way, Lara. Next time I won’t come if there isn’t a better movie playing.” The drug dealer named H scoffs, hands hiding in the pockets of his jeans now. “ _Zombies Against Aliens_? That’s some bullshit, everyone knows the aliens gonna win.”

“Not true,” Louis says, trying hard not to think about H’s lean stomach and the black ink he has spotted on the white skin. Looking up again, he sees the dealer smirking down at him, like he knows what Louis’ thoughts are still hung up on.

He has no room to judge though, this guy spent most of the time in Louis' space, breathing down his fucking neck. Sue Louis for looking, whatever, it’s a nice stomach, all right?

Whatever.

“Bye Harry,” Lara half-heartedly lifts a hand for a goodbye wave, a strong contrast to her flirty behaviour just mere minutes ago. Or maybe not, because when she lifts her head, there is a smirk plastered on her face. “It was a pleasure, like _always_.” She’s fluttering her eyelashes at him in a way that makes Louis roll his eyes.

“‘Kay, see ya, Lara.” Harry mutters, narrowing his eyes.

“Louis,” Harry exhales or maybe it’s just the breeze he leaves behind when he turns on his heels and heads for the exit. Blinking after him, Louis frowns. He clearly imagined Harry's soft voice saying his name.

However, with the absence of Harry, Louis finally can breathe again. Inhaling and exhaling, he lets himself relax more into the comfy seat. Crossing and uncrossing his ankles, he watches a zombie shuffle through a run-down building. He doesn’t think there is an actual point in this movie, since it’s all battles and blood, heads rolling around and a lot of high pitched screaming.

Leaning to his side, he whispers in Lara’s ear. “Just watch the zombies infect all the aliens. I’m telling ya, they’re gonna win.”

With the promise of drugs, Louis lets a softly giggling Lara touch his arm, and this time it doesn’t make him want to run in the other direction.

_What’s one more night anyway?_

Nothing; it’ll do nothing but release some stress. It’ll get the tension and the longing out of his tight bones and tomorrow, he can concentrate on being a better human being.

 

*  *  *  

 


	2. Chapter 2

                                                                               

 

*  *  * 

 

Louis prides himself in being right — _always_ . There is enough proof for that too, he told Nick not to drink before doing weed, that fucker didn’t listen, ended up on the toilet, whining about feeling sick. Louis had muttered a ‘told you so’ with a _probably_ too-smug face. Also, the time where Eleanor thought she was in love or whatnot, Louis told her to wait it out before blowing up the guy’s phone when he didn't text back the moment she sent the message. Eleanor didn’t listen, and, just like Nick, ended up regretting not taking Louis' very smart advice to heart.

There were other times like when Louis told Stan taking an exam whilst stoned would get him in trouble and, well. Louis was right, of course (again). He couldn’t help but say his well-practised line of ‘I told you so’—and got kicked in the shin for being a sardonic dickhead. It’s not like they started listening to him after that, but Louis was right there by their sides, when they messed up at the end, smirk on his face and ready to help out or…not so much. Whatever the situation was in the past, apparently Louis isn't always right about things. Tonight shows that he might be too quick in judging people and making his mind up before even considering the possibility that he could be wrong, too.

Tonight, his ego might absolutely hate to admit that he was wrong, but Louis can’t bring himself to feel a tad bad about the occasion and thinks his ego can take a punch in the guts. His ego can shut up completely, actually.

As it turns out, praying is not something these people do at night.

Oh — _no_ , nope.

The longer Louis is around the bunch, the more he dares to question if they even know what praying is. It's doubtful; he bets if one of them set a foot on blessed ground, the floor would hiss at them or a cloud would open and pour holy water on them. Or whatever the hell God does with sinners, and well, even if Louis hadn't sinned in the past, he'd be ruined by now. He isn't a believer in God himself, never was, but if God is out there and has a score running, they better all start praying after tonight - or maybe they are too late anyway.

Looking around, Louis doesn’t know how only four people could create such a terrible mess. The coffee table is covered in snow, which is sad to see, since it’s expensive and really excellent stuff. The room itself smells like several marijuana plants are hidden somewhere, or you know, a plantation was set on fire, since the overfull ashtray adds a heavy sense of burned-down cigarettes to it. Louis feels bad for whoever owns the house, it will be a pain in the arse to get rid of the evidence. Louis is convinced they got cocaine in the cushions of the sofa, and there is a perfect round hole in the blanket from when one of them dropped a fag that was aflame.

It all started with him being greeted by an overwhelming smell of weed — he considered this a surprising but very pleasant introduction — then a puff of smoke was blown in his face like a kiss and before Louis knew what was actually happening, some lad without trousers jumped him — literally. He jumped on him and hugged him without missing a beat, screaming about sharing love and whatnot. Needless to say, Louis was a tad more than simply taken aback. However, it got better, because the guy apparently confounded Louis with someone else pulling out of the hug and sizing him up with a curious look.

“Who’s this Lara? What is this human doing here?” he asked in a strong Irish accent, gesturing widely with his hands, the fume of the joint following the movement like a shadow. It kind of looked like he was trying to evict ghosts or summat equally bizarre. Louis was already pretty entertained at this point and the night hadn’t even started yet.

However, before Louis could get a word out to explain his presence, another boy showed up, taller than the fake blonde. Wide brown eyes filled with paranoia flickered behind Louis’ shoulder, up and down the silent and empty street. Without any greetings, questions or normal human interaction, he’d shushed them inside and with another panicked look into the darkness, he’d closed the door. The cause of paranoia was quite clear when Louis stepped into the living room, where he’s currently sitting. Louis can’t blame the guy for being frightened that someone would see what's on full display just in the living room—it’s an enormous mess. Back then, there was a stash of weed out on the table—a _lot_ to put it lightly, like they were expecting a massive crowd of people popping by, not only Lara—since they hadn’t known Louis was coming too.

Now, Louis is squeezed in between Liam—who is not paranoid anymore and has a warm laugh—and Niall, who’s still very much Irish and entertaining to watch. Niall is like a stand-up comedian, hardly anyone can understand a thing he says but they all laugh anyway because his accent makes it bloody hilarious.

Louis is down two lines of coke that wore off too quickly for his liking, and nurses his second beer, the afterglow making his bones sting with tiredness. Or maybe it’s the weed - _huh_. All the while he lets the chatter from the three friends float over him. Louis chirps in once in awhile, making the others laugh with his jokes. If he’s being honest, he feels quite at home on that little sofa. Not minding that the attention in the room is not on him, but on Niall who’s telling a story about stealing a sheep back in Ireland or…perhaps not, Louis zoned out throughout parts of the whole thing. Besides, who the hell steals a sheep? Louis thinks that’s the most Irish thing he’s ever heard. Hm, come to think of it…he’s actually never met anyone from Ireland…weird. Louis blinks slowly.

“So yeah, we were running like the wind with this sheep in our arms.” Niall says with a loud voice, the volume making Louis' ears ring. He tugs on his earlobe absently. “And then—” taking another sip of his beer, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, for a poignant pause. His eyes widen dramatically, “That tosser _trips_!” Niall exclaims, throwing his hands up, forgetting for a moment he’s still holding onto his half full bottle, beer spilling over the rim, landing on his naked thigh.

Louis glances at it with slow blinks of his eyelids, watching the small drop sparkle underneath the lights and as Niall wiggles to get more comfortable, it runs down his leg onto the sofa. Louis watches sadly as it sinks into the fabric.

Lara and Liam roar with laughter, holding their stomachs as if it’s the funniest thing they ever heard, maybe it’s the coke laughing or the joint Liam holds between his fingers, sucking on it when he’s calmed down again.

“Why would you steal a sheep though?” Louis asks, his fuzzy tongue making it hard to form words. Also, he’s pretty sure Niall explained that part somewhere at the beginning.

Niall gives him a look, confirming that Louis should know that bit already, but he repeats anyway with a slow voice that matches Louis’ own. “We were high at the time and the sheep was in need of…” He says, scratching his chin in thought, frowning. “Company?”

Right. A sheep that needs company. Louis doesn’t even know what to say to that.

Liam claps Louis on the shoulder, successfully gaining his attention. When Louis looks at him, Liam smiles broadly. “Mate, don’t ask questions, just enjoy. I think Niall never knows why he’s doing anything at all because he’s always high, you get me?”

Louis thinks he understands, nodding curtly.

“Oi!” Niall protests, trying to slap Liam’s head, but missing, swatting the air instead which sets the others off in another fit of giggles. “That’s just so wrong, we were saving t’sheep. And,” he lifts a finger to signal the following statement is important, which is probably isn’t but Louis still humours him and raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I’m not always high, where is this—” He’s cut off by a hiccup that shakes his compact body frame, “coming from, Liam? You’re one to talk anyway.” He huffs, rolling his eyes but his expression is unchangeable, joyful, beaming like a child on Christmas day. “They were going to murder it and, and — eat it, you know? We did the sheep a favour.” Niall adds after a moment of silence, Liam chuckles, shaking his head.

“Right.” Louis says, deadpan. “You true heroes.”

“Damn straight.” Niall nods, then frowns in thought. Niall apparently has a lot of them and isn’t too shy to share with the group either. “We shouldn’t have smoked before trying to save it. We would’ve gotten further…perhaps.”  

Liam, Lara and Louis glance between each other amused, and it seems like no one really knows what to say to that. So Louis just pats Niall on the shoulder, a tad awkwardly due to the angle they’re sitting at.

“Anyway.” Lara says eventually, taking the last sip of her beer and burping in her fist. “I’m starving.”

“And you're very high…” Niall adds, matter-of-factly and waves his index finger aimlessly around.

“That’s why I’m hungry.” Lara rolls her eyes, pouting.

“Takeaway or we could see what H—”  Liam can’t finish the sentence before Niall chimes in.

“Pizza!” He exclaims loudly like they aren’t all in earshot and can hear him perfectly fine.

Uninterested in the subject of food, Louis leans more comfortably on the sofa. He never can eat when he’s on coke, unsurprisingly. But what is a tad unsettling is that the thought of food makes his stomach twist to a knot. He’s not running high on snow at the moment, took a couple of hits from the spliff Liam offered and usually he gets the munchies. Louis always considered it a well-balanced diet, not eating whilst being on coke and stuffing his face whilst being high and all that. Tonight, however, he isn’t really keen to get anything in his stomach. It could be the day as a whole, maybe his body went into shock with all the sudden emotions it had to handle? Is that a thing? If not, it surely is now.

Honestly, Louis was a bit torn about meeting Lara’s friends. On the way to the house, Lara explained with pride that all of them were really close, just like siblings and that added a new weight of pressure on Louis’ already hunched shoulders. He thought it’d be awkward, not that he’s too shy to make friends—he can sweet talk anyone he wants and always get his way, tries his best to entertain people, and make everyone feel comfortable. But none of his friends were really _that_ close with each other. They knew the basics, sure, but nobody really craved a deeper friendship. Louis was totally fine with that, relieved more than anything else, since sharing the story of his parents or why he dropped out of university wasn’t something he liked to discuss, with anyone, ever. All his doubts over whether the evening would go smoothly and if he’d actually get some sort of time-out were uncalled for, because the lads made him feel welcome from the moment he planted his bum on the cushion. They didn’t ask questions about why he joined them for the evening, rather treating him like an old friend that came by for a visit after a long time spent apart. It all lifted the pressure that made his skin feel tight and let him relax whilst relief made his bones hum with warmth to be greeted in such a friendly way.

Looking at it now, Louis wonders why he was so stressed this morning, why he felt so much childish anger when Lara dared him to join her. He is pretty sure this very room is a part of heaven and Lara actually is an angel who was sent his way to reduce him from all the pain of recovery and dullness, boredom and…the list goes on. Louis is glad, so glad he didn’t stay home. He wouldn’t trade this night for anything. The moment the train of thought starts rolling in the direction of why he’s making new friends, Louis shakes himself out of it. He’s too cozy and warm for unpleasant things, like…thoughts and, well, feelings. He’s had a lot of those today and he’s done with it.

Whatever.

Louis jiggles his leg, getting restless now that the coke has left his system and he craves doing another line, the yearning a hum directly under the thin layer of skin that covers his itchy bones. He’s drowsy but too awake at the same time and he could slap himself for not asking what kind of weed they smoked before taking a drag.  He always goes by the motto ‘if you aren’t paying don’t ask stupid questions’ and he regrets that. Everything is a bit blurry at the edges of his vision, he’s hung up on random thoughts and takes so much time to answer simple questions that he’s kind of worried they all think he’s a total knob, which to be fair, they could be right about that one. His body frame feels oddly trapped in a glass box, seeing and hearing everything but not acting on it, unable to move more than his leg up and down and he can’t even stop that, the motion manic by now. Somehow it’s calming, too.

Biting on his knuckle, he wonders what’s happening in London, the party must be swinging already. Did they notice Louis isn’t coming tonight? Do they care? Seeing what close friends really are and what he thought they were is like day and night.

Louis shakes his head to clear his vision and glances at Eleanor, no—it’s Lara, definitely Lara, who’s saying something but Louis can’t make out anything but a murmur that goes through him like he’s underwater. Lara reminded him of Eleanor the moment they met, not only because they both share the same brown hair and hazel eyes, but because their characters are so much alike, too. It gets a bit confusing now, because he is pretty sure Eleanor is in London and Lara is looking at him with a cheerful face, laughing about something Louis couldn’t catch. There is another blaring laugh coming from his left, and for a second it sounds so much like Stan, but when Louis checks, Niall is throwing his head in his neck and laughing a long stretched phrase of ‘ _Ha ha ha ha_ ’. Niall and Stan could be the same bloody person, maybe not in appearance but they’re both talkative and entertaining, easy to be around. But it’s the laugh that sets Louis off— _oh god,_ Louis truly believed for a moment, it’s _Stan_ . He frowns down at his lap, what is happening? Before he gets to catch a break from his trip that mixes past and present, someone on his right claps him on the shoulder, and—yeah, it’s _Liam_ offering him another drag of weed, and maybe that's the only thing Louis can find in Liam that makes him think of Nick. Other than their love for weed, Louis couldn’t mix up Nick and Liam even if he was on incredibly strong drugs. Where Liam has a puppy face, warm brown eyes, and a broad smile, Nick smirks each of his words. He’s always got a sarcastic remark or an arrogant comment, even beating out Louis’ own sarcasm.

After all, they all could get along just great. His party people and these town wannabes could be friends, Louis reckons, thinking shortly about the time Nick, Stan, and him trashed a hotel room. Even after that, it wasn’t as bad as the room Louis is sitting in. Louis takes a shallow inhale and declines the offer for marijuana, sipping from his beer to anchor himself in the present. Lara is herself again, gesturing wildly with her hands as she talks, letting out a snorting laugh that Eleanor would never let anyone hear and it shakes him truly out of it. They are all fun to be around, at least. Just like his people, maybe...

Right there and then, the offer to invite the three of them to tag along to London sits heavy on his tongue, the words would escape if he so much as parted his lips to breathe. A selfish part of his brain chimes in, a voice telling him it's not a good idea. All the commonalities aside, they are still so different, and Louis sees the friendships between each of them are closer and stronger than the friendships his partysquad could ever dream of having.

Because that was the most important thing right? The _parties_ —

The doorbell interrupts Louis' thought-vomit and brings him out of his swirling headspace. With a tight throat, he presses down on his leg, trying to get it to still. He can feel his hands damp with sweat, just like his forehead. His shirt is sticking to the small of his back and he tries to be discreet while sniffing his collar.  

“Did you guys order already?” He asks, and even though he’s just fine and all, he can feel the exhaustion creeping in that he’s pushed back throughout the entire day.

“You were really out of it, huh?” Lara croaks, raising a slow eyebrow at him, getting up to answer the door.

“Uh…” Louis says, pinching his lower lip between his fingers, playing with it.

He’s sitting alone on the sofa now. He can’t remember any of the guys getting up.

“Are you alright mate?” Liam pops out of nowhere, slapping Louis’ shoulder in passing. Louis jumps at the contact. Liam chuckles.

“I’m great.” Louis responds, automatically.

“You want some food now?” Niall asks, wearing trousers and a different tee that's a tad too big on him. He puts plates on the now-cleaned coffee table.

When did this happen? Louis wonders with a slight frown.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis says, still feeling a bit dizzy. “I think if I don’t eat I’m gonna throw up.”

Liam’s eyes widen with panic. “And we don’t want that,” he says with a much higher voice.

“Liam here is a bit scared of vomit.” Niall says, taking his old seat next to Louis. “So please do him a favour and keep it down, eh?”

“I won’t throw up,” Louis says through gritted teeth, “Just exhausted s’all.”

Louis sends Liam a look that he hopes is calming. “I’m fine, Liam, come here.” He pats the other free spot next to him, “Get some food in that tummy of yours.”

“Where are the drums?” Lara sticks her head through the gap of the door.

While Louis blinks slowly at her, not understanding a thing, the other two boys start making actual drum noises and stamping their feet.

What...the hell?

Lara now opens the door fully, carrying four boxes pizza into the living room like that monkey did with Simba in The Lion King.

What are these people? Where have they been hiding out all his life?

The moment she sets them on the table, the other boys fall over themselves like animals to get a slice of pizza.

_Maybe they escaped from the zoo_ , Louis thinks, amused.  

“I’m famished.” Niall grunts, and stuffs his face without shame.

“You always are.” Lara teases, taking a slice for herself. “You’re like a human food-vacuum.”

“That sounds about right.” Niall agrees easily, wiping the grease from the corner of his mouth and onto his jeans, leaving them stained. “No shame in that, Lara, I’m a food-lover, through and through.”

Taking a slice himself, Louis eats like a human being with manners. The grease does him good and though he’s not very hungry, he has to admit that it tames the uneasy twisting in his guts.

“Now, Louis.”

Louis quirks his brows expectantly, swallowing the rest of his bite.

_This should be fun_ , he thinks to himself as Niall takes a long sip from his beer before turning fully towards Louis, knocking his knees against Louis’.

“This is an important question.” Niall has a thing for dramatics, Louis thinks, and coming from the King of Drama himself, that’s saying something. Still waiting for the actual question, Louis starts feeling a bit anxious for the first time since he entered the group. Blue eyes bore intensely into his, which is no help for his fluttering heart.

“Niall, spill.” Louis says, as he can’t stand the silence around them anymore, and looking to the others for help, he can see they are just as much confused as him.

Well, that’s just fantastic.

Lifting his index finger to be taken more seriously or whatever, Niall finally speaks: “Have you ever tried Irish dancing?”

Blinking rapidly, Louis takes in the question. Seriously? For that he let Louis break a sweat? Louis chokes out a laugh, eyes wrinkling from how much he’s smiling.  

“It’s a fair question!” Niall exclaims as Lara and Liam groan in unison.

“Niall,” Louis chuckles, “I can’t even twerk, how would I ever master Irish dancing?”

Niall stares at him while the other two glance between them, like they are watching a tennis match.

 

Then —  

 

“Well, that doesn’t work for me, this friendship is over.” Niall says, crossing his arms. The pout on his lips doesn’t stay for long though, his face turning back to friendly, blue eyes lighting up with an idea and before he opens his mouth, Louis…knows and Louis doesn’t like it.

“No, Niall, no.” Louis shakes his head, but Niall is already standing, pulling Louis with surprising strength to his feet.

“Let’s change that then, no time like the present, innit?”

Louis makes a face and sighs in defeat as Lara and Liam watch on with beatific expressions, as Niall starts showing him the steps. Needless to say, it ends with Louis tripping and landing on the floor, where he stays, gasping at the ceiling as Niall cackles and dances on, without even having to think about it. Bloody show-off.  

“Never again,” Louis whines, the back of his head throbbing with pain from where it hit the floor.

At least, Louis thinks, they are fun to spend time with while he’s stuck in this teaspoon-sized town.

 

*  *  *

 

Satisfied, and with full tummies, they abandon the sofa in favour of lying on the cold kitchen floor.

Louis can’t remember how they ended up on the ground, exactly. It might be because Niall went into the kitchen for another drink and just never returned.

So Liam, Lara and Louis made a search party out of it, only to find Niall already on the floor, leaning against the breakfast bar, hugging a bottle of wine close to his chest like a teddy bear. Turned out he couldn’t get the bottle open, so he sat there, whining about how he’d spent all his energy on dancing.

Of course, being the good friends they were, they helped him not only open the bottle, but also drink the wine.

With their limbs all over the place, they pass said bottle between each other, gulping it like water. Louis’ head feels heavy and his neck hurts, but he’s too lazy to get up now or ever again.

“Fairytales,” Louis states just then, rolling his head until he catches Liam’s eyes. "Bloody hated them as a child.”

“What?” Liam makes a shocked noise, as if Louis announced he murdered puppies for a living, "How can you hate something wonderful like that?”

Louis shrugs awkwardly. Honestly, he doesn’t know, only that he never cared for it when he was a child, perhaps because his mum thought it was unnecessary to finish reading any of those stories. So he never found out the ending of a single fairytale and while all the other kids were delighted about Disney movies, he’d scoffed at them. Even when he was older and able to read himself, he stayed uninterested. Lottie forced him to watch some of the famous ones when they were teenagers, but yeah. Whatever.

“Anyway, what’s something you hated as a child?” Louis throws the question back to Liam, who purses his lips, thinking hard.

A snore startles the both of them and Louis raises his head just a tad from the floor to see who fell asleep. It’s not Niall like he expected it to be, nope — it’s Lara. Curling in on herself like a foetus, mouth hanging open widely, drool dripping down her chin. Louis snorts at the sight and scratches his tummy with lazy fingers.

“Maybe we should get up.” Niall whispers.

“In a minute,” Louis responses with a lion yawn.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

Exhausted Louis closes his lids, feeling sleepy himself, the silence surrounding them lulling him in.

“I never liked water as a child.”

“Why Liam? Can’t you swim?” Louis then realises it could come across as rude.

“Nah, ’s not that, just scary, can’t see what’s below you.”

After a short time thinking about it, Louis has to agree, so he makes a noise in the back of his throat, hoping Liam gets what he means.

Burping, Niall stretches his legs in front of him, his feet touching Louis' leg. Louis grunts at the interruption of trying to find sleep and swats half-heartedly at Niall, to get him to stop moving his toes.

“I’m bloody done with all of you.” The Irishman says, “We bought all that cocaine n’ only took a couple of lines.”

“That’s right,” Louis says with a sleep-drunken voice, “Was promised a party.”

To be honest, Louis doesn’t mind that it isn’t a full blown party, where they throw coke like confetti, because this is quite nice too, actually.

While the parties in London were always massive and never-ending, they were spent with people he only knew the names of (besides Stan, Nick and El). Louis thinks, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. The music at the London parties was so loud he couldn’t make out his own thoughts—it all became a white-hot noise that his body vibrated with. His friends always made sure he was well fed with expensive alcohol, pills and powder—it wouldn’t let him catch his breath. Blinking against the dim lighting of the kitchen, he thinks to himself that he doesn’t mind the quiet.

Louis spreads his arms as if to do a snow angel, fingertips pressing against the floor. He scratches over the ground imagining he’s leaving red marks on it. Feeling so at peace, he wants to be one with the ground. One piece. He represses a snort at that, peace, piece. He’s testing it out again, Louis and the floor, he thinks, being at peace in one piece.

Wrinkling his nose, he lets the thought drop, isn’t that funny anyway. Rolling his head to the side, he’s looking over at Niall, who’s still clinging to the bottle of wine, empty by now. His eyes are closed but Louis is sure the Irish lad isn’t asleep just yet. Biting the tip of his tongue and pursing his lips after, he goes through what he’s about to do for a heartbeat.

As quietly as possible, he gets to his feet, and crouching and holding himself up with his fingertips, he waddles over to Niall. He can feel Liam’s eyes on him and with a glance over his shoulder he looks in the lad’s confused face. Pressing his index finger to his lips to signal that he has to stay quiet, Louis winks. Liam’s gaze flickers from him to Niall and back, and catching on to what Louis has in mind, he’s sitting up straighter to get a better view of the scene in front of him.

Louis is just about to get back to his plan when a hand touches his back. Trying not to jump at that, he turns his head a second time, arching a questioning eyebrow. This time it’s Lara and as he thought she was still asleep, he hadn't bothered to check that she would stay mute as well. Lara pulls her phone out, tapping on it while Louis waits impatiently, considering Niall could wake up any second and ruin his brilliant plan. Lara holds up her phone, tapping one last time then signalling for him to go on.

Right then.

Refocusing his attention on the sleeping lad, he gets ready, holding his palm up in front of him, he bites his lip to restraining an excited giggle. “Niall!” he shouts, on the top of his lungs, jumping him, shaking his shoulders quite violently.

Niall startles awake, hitting his head on the aisle in process. “Wha’? Whas’ happenin’?” He asks, terrified, whilst absently rubbing his head. "Did somethin’ happen?”

“The police are outside,” Louis lies, widening his eyes for extra drama. "They’re looking for you.”

“Is it because I watched my neighbour undress? Oh my God, that was one time!” Panic makes his cheeks rosy, and gripping Louis' arms strongly, he asks, “Louis what’d we do?”

“The only way out is the window, Niall.” Louis says, with the most serious voice he can muster, pointing to said window above the sink, “It's your only chance.” He squeezes Niall, thumbs digging in the kid’s collarbone, hoping it comes across as sincere.

“Alright.” Niall stumbles off the floor, abandoning the bottle which rolls around in a slow, sad circle.

Louis plops on his bum, and when Niall’s back is turned to him, he throws an amused glance towards the others.

“Watching the neighbour undress?” He mouths to Liam who shrugs, biting his lower lip to hold in laughter.

All three of them watch as Niall tries to climb onto the sink in attempt to reach the window, wetting his knees with the leftover water in the process. From where Louis is sitting, Niall’s legs look awkwardly angled, too long to fit into the sink properly, his calves standing up, his feet pointed to the ceiling. When he doesn’t get the window open, he turns around to his friends with wide, panicked eyes. He looks a bit manic to be honest and Louis would’ve felt bad, if he wasn’t as drunk or high.

Louis will apologize later. Right now though, he finds too much bliss in the whole show.

“Guys help.” Niall yelps, rattling on the glass and knocking against it afterwards.

Louis is able to keep a straight face for another second, before he lets the amusement get to him, giggling he covers his face. He peeks through his fingers at Niall, who’s still kneeling in the sink.

“This is not funny, guys.” Niall says in distress. As the others start to laugh as well, Niall narrows his eyes as he takes in their faces. "There are no police outside, are there?” he says in a low voice, almost to himself.

“No-ho,” Liam chuckles, already coming down from his hysterical laughter.

“Your face!” Lara cries, giggling breathlessly. “Your bloody face.” She taps on the screen again, successfully saving her recording of the moment.

Niall groans out a _fuck you_ and jumps off the sink, rubbing his knees trying to get rid of the wet spots.

“You lot gave me a fucking heart attack.” He says, and when his eyes find Louis, they turn to small slits.

Oh shit.

"You little shit.” He hisses, “Here I am being nice and friendly.” He’s hovering over Louis now, hands on his hips. And yeah, for a moment Louis thinks he’s being serious, that he’s taken it too far. Then he notices the corner of Niall’s mouth twitch, pretending to be stern, but there is clearly a smile trying to break free, so Louis inwardly relaxes.

Louis shakes his head. “Watching people undress is a crime young Niall, you creep.”

“I did no such thing.”

Lara grins from ear to ear. “Not what Niall in the video said.”

“What video?” Looking from person to person in the room he groans a second time. “Delete it, Lara.” Niall whines, stamping his foot. Louis snorts at the childish behaviour.

“Never,” She says smugly, winking.

While the two of them start bickering, Louis gets to his feet, his bum numb from the hard spot he’d sat on.

"C’mon, Niall,” he says, placing a hand on the lad’s shoulder. "You get the last piece of cold pizza.”

Pursing his lips, Niall eyes him up and down, “What did you do with it?”

Fair enough.

"Nothing,” Louis says, shrugging casually.

Letting Niall go ahead into the living room, Louis helps Liam and Lara up, pulling them up off the floor by their hands.

"I don’t think he’s too angry with us.” Liam says, concerned eyes looking after the Irish one.

"Ah, don’t you worry, Li, maybe he won’t even remember in the mornin’.” Louis yawns, hiding it behind his palm.

"By the way Lou, best we head home.” Lara says, apologetically.

"Why?” He pouts.

"D’you really think it’s a good idea not to return home on your first night here?” She squeezes his shoulder, before letting go, already stepping after Niall.

Louis thinks about it for a moment, and though he really doesn’t want to, he has to admit she’s got a point.

However. “I don’t wanna go.” He says, surprising himself, it’s the truth, so.  

"We’re gonna hang tomorrow.” Liam says, smiling at Louis warmly. "Give me your phone so I can save my number in your contacts.”

"Uh yeah just a mo.” Louis pats his back and front pockets, feeling nothing but his wallet. He frowns, "I think… I forgot it.”

Liam matches his frown, “Who leaves… their phone at home?”

"I do…apparently,” Louis says the last word slowly, shrugging. He’s got to say, he’s not too worried about it, this way he can’t lose it, "Gimme your phone so I can put my number in.”

"Exchanging phone numbers I see.” Lara speaks, entering the kitchen once more. She’s already got her jacket slung over her arm, ready to go.  

Louis saves his number under ‘Tommo’ in Liam’s phone, when Lara places a hand on his arm, peeking over his shoulder to get a better look at what he’s doing. Handing it back to its owner he gives her a quick smile.   

"Who’s Tommo?”

“I am, you tosser.” Louis rolls his eyes at Liam, who still wears a confused expression. "Short for Tomlinson.”

“Oh!” Liam exclaims, releasing a breath, “That makes sense.”

“Anyroad,” Lara says around a yawn, stretching the word out just like she does her arms above her head. She blinks sleepily at Louis, patting his waist. “Ready to go or d’you guys need another mo?”

Not too tired to be cheeky.

“Bugger off.” Louis says, giving her his best smile, making sure to show his teeth. “Just creating new friendships, like the golden boy I am.”

“Sure you are, love.” Lara leans against him, and he draws her closer, hugging her sideways around the waist.

After a round of goodbyes and see-you-thens, Niall presses a greasy kiss to both Lara and Louis’ cheeks, and Liam proceeds to fuss around them like a worried mother. “Be careful please, and Lara, text me when you get home,” Liam mutters. “Yeah Li-Li, love you,”, a smiling Lara replies, and soon, she and Louis and are on their way home.

_Walking_.

Because that’s what one does when there is no such thing as night cabs.

Louis has to admit the cool night air does him good, clearing his head and awakening his bones from the dead. After inhaling nothing else but sticky, hot smelling air paired with sweat, weed, and grease he’s glad about the fresh air too, breathing in deeply, gratefully. Being alone with Lara isn’t as awkward as it was before.

They saunter, not too eager to get home. They spend their time in silence, Louis having no choice but to trust Lara blindly to lead the way. All is good, brilliant even until she opens her too-curious mouth.

“ _So_ ,” She starts, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket, "Left anyone in London behind?”

Louis swallows, concentrating on the pavement.

“A girlfriend?” She prompts when he doesn’t answer.

He should have seen this coming, though, making friends means to open up about basic stuff, and although it isn’t a very difficult question, the topic sets him off. Meeting her gaze, he shrugs, shoes shuffling over the ground. To save time, he laughs bitterly at nothing.

“You miss her?” Lara asks, taking it the wrong way.

Louis chuckles humourlessly. “No, there is no girlfriend, not since college anyway.” Risking a look to Lara, he can’t tell what's going through her mind, her pretty face set in an unreadable mask.

“Why is that? You’re a catch.” She says eventually.

“Well, yeah.” They take a left turn, down a dim-lit alley. “I am…not really, you know, interested in girls.”

There. He’s said it, it’s done, there is no reason for his shoulders to still be tense. For a moment, the only sound is their breathing and that’s not enough.

When Louis looks up, Lara raises her eyebrows unimpressed.

“What?” He asks, frowning at the lack of response.

She smirks. “Yeah, no.” She says then, casually. “Thought I saw something there.”

“What do you mean?”

Lara nudges his shoulder with hers. “The way you looked at Harry.”

“Who?” Did Louis hear wrong when the boys introduced themselves earlier? He is pretty sure their names are Liam and Niall, but now, he is not so sure anymore. How can anyone confuse the names Liam and Harry though? Or Niall? That makes no sense whatsoever, and he isn’t even on any drugs at this point of the night.

Lara rolls her eyes and snorts. “The guy from the cinema?” She hints, lifting a single brow. “I saw how flustered you were.” Lara spreads her fingers, wiggling them in the air, to demonstrate…magic or something. “I know Harry is handsome but…” She trails off, shrugging.

“Wait, what?” Louis blinks, stops and stares at her. Lara turns, putting her hands on her hips. “I did not!” Louis exclaims, outraged. “I got all flustered because I thought that you thought it was a date!” He realised his mistake too late, the words already out and heard.

Out of Lara’s mouth shoots a barking laugh. “No way!” She doubles over, breathing heavily as her shoulders tremble with laugher. “Oh, this is too good!” She breathes in deeply to get it together or whatever, although the second she catches his eye, she bows again, wheezing a fit of giggles. Louis lets her have a moment to calm down.

“Okay, you’ve had your laugh.” Louis says, frowning a tad in irritation. He tries not to be too offended by her amusement about his thought on their non-date. “I was really panicking.” He says, “Nice to know my pain is so funny to you.”

She straightens her spine and wipes the corner of her eyes. “Ohhh, I’m sorry.” She says totally unapologetically.

Louis blinks, unimpressed at her sarcasm. “Yeah, you know, actually I wanted to escape through the window in the loos.” He says, this time nudging her shoulder to get them to move again. When they fall into step, Lara grins at him.

“What is it now?” Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’ll never let you live that down, this is way funnier than Niall’s face trying to get the window open.”

Louis' lips twitch, “I guess.”

“And,” Lara continues, “I think I’d have a talk with my girlfriend first before we make any plans for a date. I don’t think she’d like that.”

“Girlfriend, eh?” Louis grins at the sudden colour that creeps on Lara’s cheeks. “Look who’s getting all flustered, now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lara hides her smile in the collar of her bomber-jacket. “Leave me be.”

“Where is your lovely girlfriend tonight, then?”

Her smile disappears and she avoids looking at him altogether, slowing their pace a tad. “Had to stay at Uni.” Lara shrugs, like it’s no big deal, her sad gaze says otherwise though and Louis makes an sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “Whatever, stop with the pitying looks, she’s proper smart, getting an education and all, my girl.” Lara hip-bumps him and loops her arm around his, lightening the somber mood that bloomed just a second ago. “So, your idea of a romantic date is picking up drugs and watching a shitty movie? No wonder you’re single.”

“We won’t talk about this again.” Louis makes a face. “Ever.”

“Awh, but Louis, you wanted to escape my awesome personality through the window!” Lara says, patting his cheek. He dodges her hand and catches it in the air as she tries to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah luckily, I didn’t have to.” Louis says, “Harry showed up and—” He cuts himself off, biting his lip.

“And?” She prompts.

“No, you’ve had your fun. I’m done talking to you.”

“No, c’mon, I wanna know!” She lowers her voice and adds, “I promise I won’t laugh this time.”

Louis clears his throat, averting his gaze to the ground. “Thought, he’s your…boyfriend.” Louis admits. “You promised not to laugh, Lara!” He groans and dips his head in his neck, watching the stars sparkle at him, like they are laughing too.

“I swear, this tops Niall’s panic about him watching his neighbour undress big time.” Lara says, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Damn.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” Louis whines, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. He shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, the lads would die of laughter if they ever found out, which, they won’t. Right?

“Ah, blackmail is a beautiful thing.”  Lara smirks.

Right.

However, they fall into a comfortable silence after that. If that isn’t already odd enough, the way Louis enjoys Lara’s company is something he’d never expected to happen. They spend the rest of the way home like that; walking and breathing in the night air, nothing left to say but being connected to each other more than almost-strangers have any right to be.

 

*  *  *

 

“Had a good night?” Lottie asks the next morning, pouring a dash of milk in her tea.

Buttering his toast, he looks up for a split second, meeting her gaze before glancing back to his own tea. "Yeah,” He says easily, not bothering to hide his smile.

“So, you regret being a brat all day?”

"Get lost, Lottie.” Louis says around a bite of toast. "I wasn’t a brat. I was tired and exhausted from my oh-so normal people experience on the bloody train.”

“Which is what turned you into a brat,” Tommy adds unhelpfully from the kitchen sink, where he’s leaning against it, sipping tea, eyes crinkling at the corners, “A spoiled brat, at that.”

Looks like he had a good night’s rest, then, considering they’ve both teamed up in mocking Louis.

“Can we all just enjoy my good mood this morning?” He asks, chewing with an open mouth. “I would've stayed in bed if I had known you guys were gonna be mean.”

Lottie scrunches her nose in repugnance. To get on her nerves, he opens his mouth wider, sticking out his tongue, chewed food visible.

“Louis!” She scoffs, before swatting him upside the head. “ _Disgusting_. Where are your manners?”

Swallowing, he takes a sip of his own still hot, steamy tea, fingers curling around the mug. It warms his hands, and he holds it a tad tighter.

“No seriously, Lara’s a ray of sunshine.” Louis jumps back to topic, “The movie was crap, though.”

“Thought as much.” Tommy mutters, “It's a cheap remake, they’re never good.”  

“Anyway, I gotta run.” Lottie says, getting up from the chair, gulping down the rest of her tea. “I’m glad you had a good night, Lou.” They share a quiet smile. “Gonna be late tonight, doing a double-shift.”

She gives Tommy a quick kiss on the lips. Louis pretends to gag at the scene and Tommy flips him off behind Lottie’s back, smiling at her innocently when they part.

Ruffling Louis’ already messed-up hair in passing, she’s off, leaving the kitchen in haste.

“Don’t you have to work?” Louis asks as he hears the front door slamming shut.

“Another night shift.”  Tommy says, composing himself on Lottie’s abandoned chair with a lethargic groan. He stretches his arms above his head, the cracking of his joints audible. Propping his ankle on his knee, Tommy gives a full-body shrug.

He watches Tommy’s foot wiggle up and down for a moment before his gaze snaps to Tommy’s blue eyes, offering a sympathetic, thin smile. “That blows,” Louis says, slurping some more lukewarm tea.

“Night shifts are the worst.” He agrees, rolling Lottie’s mug between his hands.

Finishing his toast, Louis gets up, gathering his plate and mug.

“Leave it.” Tommy says when Louis places the items in the sink. “We can get to it after lunch.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He says, clapping his hands once and plastering on a faux-cheerful smile. Louis had no intentions of doing the dishes in the first place. Tommy doesn't need to know that.

“What’re you doing today?”

“I dunno,” Louis scratches his neck with his index finger, “what _is_ there to do?”

“Well, we could—” The ringtone of Tommy’s phone gains his attention and whilst he is distracted, Louis steals himself out of the kitchen.

He likes Tommy, don’t get him wrong, he’s a marvellous husband to Lottie, always nice, always polite. He says the right things at the right time and Louis knows Lottie is thoroughly happy to be with him. The both of them, Tommy and Lottie, get along utterly superbly, it’s like they share a brain or summat equally soulmate-like. However, if Louis is quite frank, he’d like to have some well-deserved alone-and-mourn-time.

First of all, he’s in need of a shower, a _long_ and _hot_ shower.

Second, not only hadn't he showered since he’s got here from London, but he can also feel stubble growing along his jaw, so he’d like to shave.

Third, because he hasn’t gotten any rest in the past three fucking days, he’d love to join his bed for another round of beautiful slumber.

Shower, shaving, nap, it is. It's a great plan.

Quietly walking up the stairs, trying not to make too much noise, he returns to his room. Louis releases a heavy sigh when he shuts the door behind him. Just looking at the bag placed next to his unmade bed makes him feel fatigued. Showering is too much trouble in the state he is in, Louis thinks. He’d rather collapse on the bed, burying himself underneath the blanket and have a snooze.

Whatever, Louis muses, crawling under the fluffy blanket, pulling it up to his ears, closing his eyes and relaxing into the clean smelling sheets. He ignores the expostulative voice that nags him to get the fuck up, get into the shower, and scrub himself until his skin is pink and sore, and soon he evens out his breathing.

Sleep will come soon enough and he can have a bit of peace.

Sleep doesn’t come though. Instead, he hears footsteps walking up the stairs, and towards his room.

“No, no, no…” He chants quietly into the pillow, “Please don’t come in here…don’t…”

The door opens and Louis shuts his lids more firmly. Fuck.

“Louis,” Tommy says, “Don’t you think it’d be better to do something?”

“Like what?” Louis grunts, all he wants is to have some rest, some quiet. Is that too much to ask?

“Well, Lottie was kind enough to remind me to go grocery shopping.” — Louis snorts at that — “And, she told me to take you with me, so you—”

“I’m not a child.” Louis cuts in, voice muffled but firm nonetheless.

“Oh trust me, we’re aware.” Tommy chuckles. “She thought it’d be better to get you out of the house…” There is a pause, some shuffling, then — “Out of bed…”

Louis sighs, rolling onto his back, and peeking at Tommy with narrowed eyes. “I’m knackered though. Haven’t slept a full night in the past three days. I think I deserve some rest, eh?”

Tommy shifts again, awkwardly scratching the back of his hair. “How about you shower and we watch some crappy film downstairs?”

Louis rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “I appreciate your effort, Tommy, honestly, but I’d rather be alone for a while, yeah?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” Louis snaps, sitting upright and glaring at his brother-in-law, “I’m not in the mood to watch a movie or sit through some awkward silence.”

There is a long beat of stunned quiet. Tommy blinks at him like an owl, Louis continues to send daggers at him, his cheeks flushing with anger. He crosses his arms defensively.

“I only mean good, Lou.”

Louis huffs, “Yeah, sure, just like my parents, huh? Everybody just means good. Everybody just wants me to get better and better, but I’ll tell you what. I’m perfectly _fine_. All right? I’m fine. So please just go, do your thing and leave me alone.”

Tommy swallows thickly, nodding and averting his eyes to the ground, he shuffles again and then nods some more. “Alright…” He rasps, hurt clear in his voice. Louis’ heart clenches when Tommy slips out of his room, closing the door softly behind him.

Guilt is a heavy weight in his gut as Louis sits on the mattress, staring at the closed door and bites his lip. He…is an arsehole. He’s the biggest fuck-up in the world and he makes everyone around him feel like shit. People who have nothing to do with his misery, like Tommy. Tommy is a good person. He doesn’t deserve Louis’ untamed anger, Louis knows. Louis understands that.

That’s why he rolls out of bed, padding out of his room and finds Tommy in the living room, staring at the black screen, playing with the remote but not turning on the telly.

Louis sucks his upper lip in his mouth. He’s never had a fight with Tommy, they always were friendly towards each other. Tommy is supportive of Louis, he’s a nice fucking person and the expression that’s painted on Tommy’s face is upsetting.

Louis might be an arsehole, but he still has some humanity inside of him—somewhere, at least. That little piece of him twists when Tommy looks at him in pure surprise, dark eyebrows jumping to his fluffy hairline but other than that, he stays mute, watching Louis come closer and sit on the armrest of the sofa.

He clears his throat and rubs below his nose, sniffing. “I’m sorry.” Louis murmurs, addressing the coffee table, not bringing himself to look at Tommy properly. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s not your fault. You let me stay here, it’s your home and I…” Louis swallows, “I’m sorry.” He peeks at Tommy, meeting his blue eyes and lets his gaze droop in his lap. He fiddles with his hands.

Tommy sighs and props his socked foot on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s alright,” he says, “I get it.” Louis opens his mouth to protest but Tommy mildly shrugs. “How about that movie?”

“Yeah…sounds good.” Louis agrees slowly, sliding off the armrest and onto the soft cushion. “What are we watching?”

Tommy gets up, crouches down in front of the telly-stand, opens the cabinet and glances over his shoulder. “What do you want to watch? We got a whole load of rom-coms, but.” Both cringe in unison, “Rather not.”

They decide on watching _The Dark Knife_ , both have seen the movie countless times, but it’s a timeless movie and the pair relax on the sofa as the opening credits start showing on screen.

“Beer?” Tommy asks, “It’s not even lunch time, but Lottie isn’t home, so…”

Louis’ lips twitch, “You’re aware that Lottie would drink us under the table, right?”

“That’s why I said Lottie isn’t home. More beer for us.” Tommy rolls his eyes. “Though I’m very proud my woman can hold her liquor.”

Louis laughs at that, clapping Tommy on the shoulder and fetching four bottles of beer, plus some salt and vinegar crisps.

They watch, drink, and eat in silence, until he feels Tommy’s gaze falling more on him than the screen, and—it’s a great scene playing at the moment so he knows Tommy must have something important on his mind.

“What?” Louis asks, munching on more crisps, ripping his gaze away from the characters. “Spill before the movie properly picks up.”

Tommy takes a sip of his beer, “I know you didn’t like me when I started seeing Lottie.”

Louis chokes mid-swallow, coughing violently, his eyes watering, causing Tommy to slap him between his shoulder-blades as Louis leans forward, trying to free his airways.

“What?” Louis croaks, coughing again, “No way! Of course I liked you, where is this coming from? I told you, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier man.” He swallows a big gulp of beer and wipes his mouth, balancing the bottle on his upper thigh.

Tommy snorts. “No, you didn’t, it’s alright. I get it.”

“How can you get it when I don’t even get it?” Louis asks, lifting his brows, because what the fuck? Louis was always very welcoming towards Tommy. He made his sister shine, how could he dislike someone who let his sister glow with utter happiness like the fucking sun? Impossible.

“Because I took her away from London.” Tommy shrugs, “I took her away from _you_ , I know how close you both…were.”

“Yeah, she’s my sister _and_ my best friend.” Louis says, frowning slightly, “I wasn’t happy to hear about the move but I understand, truly. She never quite liked London like I do. But I’d be a right dickhead to be mad about you guys building your own life together away from…”

“Your parents.” Tommy finishes for him and Louis nods, hesitant. “I know you had a bad phase after Lottie moved out.”

Louis swallows, gaze fixed on his lap. He’d rather not talk about any of it. The bad phase hasn’t ended quite yet. “You know nothing. There wasn’t a bad phase,” Louis lies, quietly. His jaw flexes. “There was just a lot of pressure on me and I finally snapped. That’s it.”

It’s an understatement. Louis’ stomach twists painfully at the memory.

“I was there, Louis.”

Oh, that’s right. Louis colours in embarrassment. Tommy and Lottie witnessed his major downfall — his biggest mistake. Being reminded that other people know about it too is shattering. It’s something he never wants to open up about again, if he has the choice.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Louis asks on a sigh, “My parents don’t like that I’m gay, I mean…” He shrugs, trailing off for a moment, then he licks his lips, continuing, “There are a lot of other people who happen to be in the same situation as me, I’m not special.”

That too feels somehow like an understatement. Everything he worked for, everything he’d thought he wanted and more — he lost that with two little words. That’s all it took at the end, for his end.

His whole life had been planned out - a fixed, solid thing.

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t anymore and he was falling, lost in a complicated, twisted maze. A puzzle he’d lost the last missing piece to.

“I mean a businessman cannot be gay, innit?” Louis recites his mother’s words—she never said them directly to him, but he’d overheard—out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy tense. Oh, now he’s uncomfortable, huh? He brought it up in the first place, he should’ve been ready to hear what Louis has to say.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Tommy argues and Louis must agree, of course he does, there is no other option. His mother doesn’t see it like that, however, and every day he spent sitting in the office has gone to waste, because his mother’s beliefs didn’t match with the fact that Louis likes cock.

It wasn’t only his mother with strong beliefs in the world and how life is supposed to work. His family took care of the planning of his future. It never came into question that Lottie would take over their mum’s company, because her goal always has been studying medicine and saving lives, hence the pressure has always been on Louis.

The moment he was born they took control over his life, choosing his outfits for the day, controlling the way he talked, and who he was friends with. Mostly they were the sons and daughters of business partners (which was no surprise whatsoever). They put him in the local footie club, and so on.

When he was a child, his granddad put Louis on his lap and told him in his dominating, ‘ _my-words-are-fact_ ’ kind of way how the world functions, what matters, and what doesn’t. Louis listened, craving to learn more, wanting to know everything there is to know. Young, curious, and naive.

He’d spent more time with his granddad than his mum, sitting in the massive leather chair in his grandpa’s office, spinning in circles while his granddad was stuck in a business meeting. His mum worked there too, as her dad’s right-hand, checking on Louis once in a while, telling him to behave and not to mess with any papers or the phone, like he'd done before.

After his granddad passed, his mum took over the company, rebuilding it with a new concept, and successfully taking it international, outside of Europe.

Louis went there after school or footie training. Doing his homework on the shiny glass table, looking more out of the window, watching people walk by than doing actual work.

When his mum was there with him, they’d gone over paper after paper, he answered the phone in his best posh accent, passing it to his mum who took it from there.

_Every bloody day._

From when he was just a toddler until he reached the end of college.

Louis didn’t have to think about it, all he had to do was function, doing everything his Mum wanted him to.

“Maybe they’ll come around?” Tommy nudges the butt of the beer bottle against Louis’ knee, bringing him out of his thoughts and back into the living room. There are loud noises coming from the telly, but he can’t grasp what is actually going on. There is a rushing in his ears, and he shifts on the cushion sitting cross-legged and downing the rest of his lukewarm beer.

“They won’t.” Louis shrugs, rolling the empty bottle between his clammy hands. He really needs a shower.

“You worked so hard though, I’m sure your mother—”

“That’s not the point,” Louis snaps, “I don’t want her bloody company anymore.” It’s true, whilst he felt smug about the fact that he had a solid future in the company back in college, while his fellow classmates stressed and dreamed and planned what to study, he doesn’t want that anymore. But now — “I don’t know what I want.”

And, that’s the whole fucking problem, innit? He saw University in another light, he wanted the full experience. It should’ve been a new chapter of his life, but it turned into a depressing second book, not just a new page labelled as ‘ _chapter 2_ ’.

He thought graduation day would be the best opportunity to express that to his dear parents. Like Lottie has done: going to Uni, meeting a nice bloke and bringing him home, introducing him to the parents. He should’ve known better than to tell them that he’s gay. He revealed such a big part of himself he’d held close to his heart since he figured himself out. However, Louis still can feel the air being sucked out of the dining room in their London city-house, when he said, ‘I’m gay’ during graduation dinner. The way his mother looked at him so blankly, the way her mouth stretched to a thin line, before her wooden-chair scratched over the floor and she left the table, without a spoken word. The way Mark looked at him apologetically, then darted after his wife, whilst Tommy and Lottie stayed put, patting Louis on the back and telling him they were proud of him and loved him.

All he did was turn it into a flat joke with the words ‘well, that went well’ before breaking down and sobbing into a napkin that was artfully folded into a swan.

“They didn’t send you here because you’re gay though,” Tommy continues, making it all worse. Louis would like him to shut up. Tommy doesn’t know a thing.

“Let’s just watch the movie.” Louis grits through his teeth, his heart thundering in its cage.

“Alright.”

Whilst the movie plays on and a heavy silence settles over them like a fog, Louis’ thoughts swirl with the alcohol in his nearly empty belly. They sent him to Macclesfield, so he gets to spend time around straight people, not because he dropped out of University without telling them.

He knows.

After he told them he’s gay, nothing changed. They didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t talk about it. He went to the office, like he’d done before, he did all the fucking paperwork and he sat side by side with his mother at the glass desk in her spacious, lucent office.

It wasn’t enough anymore, the task seemed so much more dull than before. He watched his mother work for quite a while, then he opened his mouth and said again, “Mum, I’m gay.”

She clicked her pen, once, twice, eyes still fixed on the paper under her nose. She glanced up, fixing him with a glare, and a too sweet smile on her red, shiny lips, and he thought - this is it; a fight; a _reaction_. They'd talk it out, and then he could go back to normal, enjoying working beside her and looking forward to Uni and doing all the stuff he had planned for himself.

Not quite.

What she said was, “No, you’re not, darling.” And went back to reading.

That was it.

_No, you’re not, darling._

He’d stared at her, trying to process what just happened and whilst his mind did not understand, his heart somehow did and it shattered and broke into pieces.

In that very moment, all he desperately wanted was to set the building on fire, watching everything burn down to the ground. Just like his mum had done with his hopes and dreams. Instead of doing so, he got up and left. Hurt like a kicked puppy, he felt it for the first time: ashamed to be who he was.

Not letting that get to him though, he went down the street, bringing distance between him and the company.

It was also the first day they hadn’t eaten supper together, his dad out for a meeting, his mum still busy with paperwork. They had always made time for their little daily get-together.

It stopped completely.

That night, when his mum had been so cruel and family dinner fell through, he wondered for the first time if that was the life he really wanted to live.

Turned out it wasn’t, he didn’t know what he wanted, not back then, not now. But it was too late to back out of University, also he’d seen a chance in there as well.

When his mum asked him why he hadn’t been at the company, he told her he’d been busy with Uni stuff, needing all the extra-time he could get his hands on. It wasn’t a blatant lie at least, he tried to make it work.

He went to his classes, being a good student, doing his homework in his room, listening to music whilst pretending it didn't bore him to death. Two months after, he got the brilliant idea to drop out without his parents knowledge.  

Leaving the University’s building for the last time, a weight lifted off his shoulders, letting him walk easily away, no regrets, no guilt. Instead of going straight home like he had planned, he went to a party, not for the first time in his life, obviously, but a party held by students, that is.  

Proper ones, frat boys, cheerleaders, not guys in suits drinking expensive champagne but cheap beer. He felt slightly overdressed but as the first beer went down his throat and he smoked his very first cigarette, he didn’t care as much anymore.

There at that party, he’d gotten to know Eleanor, a student he’d seen around on campus, wearing a tiny, black dress, showing off her beautiful shape perfectly. She told him she knew who he was and who his parents were, and when he said he didn’t even know himself, she had laughed, offering him white powder. When he was down two lines, the rest of the weight he had carried around for ages disappeared into thin air, the feeling of being free and reckless so powerful.

It was the first night he didn't come home, ignoring all of his parents calls, drinking and smoking, having fun with people he actually sort of liked.

The next night, he met Nick, a posh lad, arrogant and snooty in a funny way, thinking that he’d come from a normal worker family. Nick’s friend Stan was there, also. And ever since then, Nick, Eleanor, Stan and Louis were One. The pack, the club no one else could join.

There were others too, but they were minor, only knew his name, didn’t care for Louis as the other three did.

But the most important thing was that Louis could be himself. He was finally able to snog a guy against a door, and Nick would high-five him, afterwards. He could forget that it’s a bad thing to do cocaine, when Eleanor was sniffing it and passing him the Tenner. Louis could forget his parents pretended he wasn’t gay, when Stan got him involved with so many guys who took him to their rooms, fucking him and getting fucked in return.

His parents never noticed any of it, so he pretended he wouldn’t notice that instead of him they took Lottie to charity galas, they took Lottie to show off like a fucking award for good parenting.

Telling everyone she’s super smart, studying medicine and all, showing off her super handsome, polite boyfriend as well. Look my daughter and her soon-to-be husband, they’re going to be doctors, look how great they are. We don’t know a Louis anymore.

Not that Louis minded though. He liked his newfound freedom, the chance to breathe and have fun. Back then they thought he was still in University, just like Lottie, so homework, course work, study groups were a perfect excuse for his absence and to get shitfaced with his friends.

It didn’t hold on though, when Lottie graduated from University and moved three something hours from London to Macclesfield, Cheshire. The tension in the house got tighter, his mum lashing out at him, when he’d been home and lashing out on him when he hadn’t.

At some point, Louis didn’t get calls anymore, they turned their back on him, letting him be, just like Louis wanted, or so he thought.

Was it because they didn’t love him? Did they give up on him? Didn’t they care about him? Couldn’t they see? Why couldn’t they just accept him for who he was?

So when exam season came around, and all his glamorous friends were actually busy with their studies while Louis had been trapped at home, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Louis took it upon himself to get cocaine. This led to nasty interactions with the wrong people, walking around the bad parts of London, getting mugged twice and a handful of traumatising experiences with drug dealers.

Good thing Louis stopped caring for his life at this point, if he was going to die in the search of drugs, then so be it, at least he had nothing to lose.

So yeah, Louis has done some reckless shit, something that made him feel alive, just as the drugs did. He got a kick out of it even, standing face to face with someone who could kill him only because that person wanted his money or his fancy watch.

Louis didn’t sleep more than three hours a night, coke keeping him awake and every time his thoughts caught up with him, he took another line…and another until he’d got a call from any of his friends, asking him to join some party held by a nameless person.

While Nick, Stan, and Eleanor studied, he’d made some new friends, you see. Friends in the gay scene; friends in the darkest pubs of London; friends he’d never be friends with if it wasn’t for his need to get distracted.

When his sister married, he had only been half-human. Barely alive, sniffing coke for breakfast, lunch and supper, he’d lost a lot of weight, making his cheeks hollow and his skin pale.  

Because their parents didn’t seem to care enough to mention it to Lottie, it had been a shock to her, seeing him like that. When she asked if he was alright, he’d lied through his teeth, telling her it was the stress of University, the stress of his parents at home, the office work, footie, whatever it took to make her stop looking at him with concerned eyes.

When Lottie asked him to help move into their new home, he wanted to deny her, really. But that would have been a shit act, and he wanted to be a good brother to the only person who’d stood behind him all the way. So yeah, there wasn’t a way to avoid it.

He’d spent two weeks with them, carrying box after box, packing, unpacking, getting all sweaty.

At night he had laid awake, listening to his thoughts without a way to distract himself. It had been the first time he had done that in so long. So he listened to all the ugly things his brain produced.

As he couldn’t stand it anymore he helped himself with alcohol, since Tommy had a weakness for scotch and whiskey, he was good. Take that and add a few sleeping pills or painkillers and he fell asleep like a dead person.

When it all got too much though, and he’d run out of pills and the alcohol was making him puke more than letting him sleep, he told Lottie and Tommy he had to go home, his friends were having a birthday party he couldn’t miss and he’d promised to come back as soon as he could manage.

Needless to say, he didn’t, the shit person that he was. He went onto the train with empty promises of see you soon, yes Lottie very soon, I love the house by the way (which wasn’t a lie), and Tommy take care of my sister, she’s older but that doesn’t matter, so, the moment he smelled the first sniff of London air, he got shitfaced in Nick’s flat.

It hadn’t stopped since then. He was bored with his life, his parents only talking to him when something important was up and hating him for the only thing he couldn’t change about himself.

Louis loves being gay. He loved guys with their broad shoulders who can hold him up, he’s had a weakness for rough hands and feeling stubble scratching on his chin while snogging.

He also loves being in charge, making the big guys squirm underneath his fingers, making them feel good, taking care of them — being in control.

Anyway.

Louis’ taken it too far, messed up big fucking time, and thanks to that, his parents found out about his secret life.

Louis still doesn’t know what was more shocking to them: finding out their son has been doing drugs on a daily basis or that he dropped out of Uni right under their noses, playing them for at least a year straight.

So yeah, they were pissed and very angry, throwing words like rehab and church camp around (Louis doesn’t think that’s actually a thing), though they were anything but religious.

In the end, neither made the cut. For some reason Lottie was the better option, and when they mentioned her name, he jumped at the opportunity, begging them to just send him to his sister. They did consent for some reason, listened to him and gave in without another word about rehab, which was a little bit odd if he thought about it, but _whatever_. First time he won against his mother and her husband.

A loud crashing sound brings him out of his head and he only then notices how his hand is clenched around the bottle. He swallows around the lump that's lodged in his throat, and clears his airways. “I think…” He starts, Tommy looks at him, lifting his eyebrows, prompting, “I need a shower.”

Tommy shrugs, “You good though, yeah?”

“Just superb.” Louis rolls his eyes, forcing a smile and getting up, taking their empty bottles back to the kitchen and avoiding Tommy’s eyes that seem to follow him as he crosses the room to get to the hallway.

Back in his bedroom, he heaves a major sigh, feeling unsettled and tired. He throws himself on the mattress, staring with slow blinks of his eyelashes at the white ceiling.

Being here, it’s not worth the effort, he muses, scrubbing a hand over his face. The moment he’s back in London, he’s set his mind to go see Nick. He wants to give Eleanor a kiss on her cheek, and ruffle Stan’s short hair. An hour in, he’d get high as the sky, ready to catch a star and get all his depression fucked out of his system by a random guy from a pub.

Nothing could help him, because if he stops taking stuff to forget, the depression comes back. It swallows him whole, taking him down to the bottomless ground, drowning him with thoughts and things he can’t change. And that’s something he really, _really_ wants to avoid.

That reminds him of something.

Rolling onto his side and rubbing his sore, bloodshot eyes, Louis digs through his bag, shoving his knick-knacks to the side, feeling the little bottle of lube he’s packed, until he finds what he’s actually looking for.

His phone.

Smiling to himself, he weighs it in his open palm. It feels weird, is the thing. He totally forgot about it and hasn’t turned it on since he got onto the train. Bizarre as it is, he hasn’t had the craving to go through his social media and see all the pictures from the night-out he missed.

Couldn’t hurt to check the messages now, Louis thinks, pressing the power button to bring it back to life.

Sucking his cheeks in, Louis watches all the messages and missed calls rolling in. Ignoring them altogether, he goes straight for the last one.

_Hey mate, it’s Liam. Join the BBQ tonight?_

Louis inhales shaky, relieved that Liam hasn’t forgotten about him and actually sent a message. Lottie would be home late, she’d said, Tommy has another nightshift, which means they surely won't mind him being gone too much. Besides, it was Lottie’s idea to get him together with Lara in the first place.

With another heavy sigh, he types in a quick response, telling Liam that yes, he’ll be there and he’s looking forward to it.

Turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling, he waits for Liam to text him once more. He doesn’t have to wait very long before another beep-sound from his phone tells him he’s received another message.

_Woo! Gonna be fun, tho Lara can’t take u, she’s coming later. Work and stuff._

Making his mind up, Louis texts back that he’s going to walk, the town so little he couldn’t possibly get lost. As Liam sends two thumbs up emojis and confetti, Louis puts his phone down and tries to control his thoughts for a moment.

Cheeks pressing into the soft pillow, Louis closes his lids, body going pliant.

Depression can go fuck itself.

All he wants is to be distracted. Having a little fun can’t hurt. He’s young and lost, and having no idea where his life is going is normal for someone his age. Nobody has a plan. He knows there are other people too who are not being respected by their families. Louis is not alone in this.

Not that he’s ever bothered to start a chat about it with anyone, but it has to be the truth anyway. Then, with a long-lasting sigh he rolls out of bed, stumbling as gravity catches up with him.

Dragging his feet over the ground, he makes his way over to the shower, washing away the heaviness that has laid down on his shoulders since his talk with Tommy. Stiff neck relaxing under the hot water, Louis groans, tipping his head into his neck, water running down his torso, taking all the thoughts with it, and the longer he stands under the hot steam, the more he feels human again.  

The BBQ is going to be _great_.

 

*  *  *

 

Louis is walking along the neverending pavement. He has to say he’s in much better spirits after his shower, seeing it all in a brighter light not just because he's outside and the sun is quite blinding. He starts to hum a song under his breath as birds chirp in the distance and the lucent rays warm his skin.

The only thing that nags at his guts is that Louis is pretty sure he’s lost on the way to the house he is supposed to meet his newly-won, lovely friends, which is surprising as he’d thought the town couldn’t be big enough to get lost in.

Well, here he is, without a phone and having no idea where the hell he ended up.

Also Louis is quite certain that he’s walked past the petrol station twice. The breeze makes him shiver as he comes to a halt, releasing what feels like the heaviest sigh in history. He stares daggers at the petrol station, as if its at fault for his misery. Good mood being carried away by the wind, he slumps his shoulders in defeat.

Fuck.

Scratching his eyebrow, he looks around and sees there is no one else walking on the streets. A black car passes him and from where he’s standing he can spot a cat peeking at him out of the window opposite the road. The cat blinks and he blinks right back, wondering if it’s possible for cats to feel pity, because if so, Louis takes a good guess that’s what the cat is doing right now: pitying him.

It hadn’t been one of his best ideas to leave his phone at home.

Louis bites his lip in trepidation, trying very hard not to let that sinking feeling in his stomach settle. There is the town sign at the end of the street, if he’d walk further he would get to a field, he found that out a while ago; he also knows, when he walks straight and takes a left turn, he gets to a church.

He can’t remember the church from the last time he was at the house, so that’s not a good sign.

However, Louis can’t stand here for much longer, he can feel eyes on him and he doesn’t think it’s the inquisitive cat anymore. He crosses the street, hands buried in the pockets of his denim-jacket, and eyes focusing on the pavement. His fringe flops up and down with each step he takes.

_Stupid_ , he thinks, kicking a rock with the tip of his shoe.

_What_ , another kick sets the rock flying.

_The_ , he jogs to reach it and kicks it again.

_Fuck_ , with a last more forceful kick the rock bounces against a house wall and falls, with a thud, on the ground.

Louis is just about to pass the alley, when he hears people talking, just above a quiet, hissed whisper. His ears perk, his stomach flips in victory until he gets a glimpse of the the pair and the happiness enervates and a ludicrous nagging unfurls in his guts. Interrupting would be inappropriate, a bad idea. He already stopped in his tracks, however, and squirms because, is that…

Yep, he should’ve kept walking, he thinks darkly. Maybe, he can’t be certain, all he knows for sure is that it’s Harry talking to a guy, their faces close together and it doesn’t look much like a friendly chat.

As if Harry can sense him — which is bollocks, of course — he looks up and before Louis can hide anywhere, Harry locks eyes with him. From a distance, Louis can’t hear a thing but whatever Harry’s told the guy sends him running off in the other direction.

The dealer straightens his leather jacket, which must be suffocating, since the English weather is surprisingly warm these days and today is no different.

Louis knows he should make a run for it like the guy just did seconds before, but something keeps him glued to the spot, watching as Harry comes strolling towards him, long, giraffe legs making up for the distance.

It’s the first time Louis sees Harry in actual day light, and it knocks the breath right out of his lungs. The boy in front of him is pretty, is the thing, wild curls being held back by a navy blue bandana. Though he’s got a hard look on his face, something about him feels soft still, just as soft as his creamy skin looks. Louis thinks the annoyed narrow of his jade green eyes is off, not fitting for how bright they actually are. It’s all wrong, Louis ponders, that the boy tries very hard to seem rude and uninterested, arrogant.

But as soon as Harry opens his mouth, Louis thinks he had been wrong about him, and Harry really is as rude and cold as he seems to be.

“Ah, look who we've got here.” Harry taunts when Louis is in earshot, eyebrows raised. “Louis, the city boy.”

“Look who it is.” Louis echoes right back, voice flat. “Harry, the drug dealer.”

“The One and Only.” Harry stops in front of him, close enough that Louis can smell his itching cologne. “What are you doing here, all _alone_?”

“That sounds creepy mate. You got the line from a movie?” He says, not even trying to cover his annoyance. Maybe he should be scared, being alone with a dealer who’s threatened someone in front of his eyes should do that to a normal human person.

But like Louis had said before, something about Harry feels off and Louis has not the nerve or time to figure out what it is. So instead of being frightened by a curly haired boy, he’s looking for the quickest way to get away from him. He was promised a BBQ with people he actually likes, so yeah.  

“I might have.” Harry says, biting his lips to suppress something like a smile, and when he doesn’t offer anything else, just stands blinking at him. Louis keeps talking.

“What was that about?” Louis nods towards the alley. “Looked serious.”

“Mind your own business.”

“I was trying to, it’s not like I wanted to get involved in whatever that was.”

Harry chuckles darkly. “He refused to pay.” Shrugging, he draws his lower lip between his teeth. Louis tries very hard not to track the movement but fails. “What are you doing here?” Harry asks, releasing his lip, smiling when their eyes meet. Knowing Louis has been caught, he covers his embarrassment with a cough.

“I’ve somewhere to be.” Louis says, folding his arms defensively.

Harry snorts at that, smile unwavering, “Yeah, me too.”

“Lara’s waiting on me, so I better be on my way.”

“You know you’re in the wrong part of town, right?” Harry steps forward, Louis taking a step backwards by reflex, his skin prickling.

“No, I’m not. How would you even know?”

Harry groans. “Seriously?” Chuckling, he ruffles through his curls, giving Louis a disbelieving look. “It's a tiny town, I’ve no idea how you got lost, mate.”

“Who says I’m lost?” Louis quirks his brows in challenge, “Maybe I wanted to take a walk beforehand?” Swirling his finger in the air he adds, “Nice weather, gotta enjoy it.”

“That’s why you walked past that very alley three times?”

Louis purses his lips, knowing he must sound stupid by now. “Yes,” he says anyway, after a moment of silence.

Harry nods slowly, not believing the plain lie for a second.

Sensing this would be the right moment to get the hell out of here, Louis takes a step back, thumbs pointing over his shoulder, "Nice seeing you again Harry, lovely bandana by the way.” Harry snorts at that. “I really should get going, yeah? Bet Lara is wondering where I am.” He chuckles self-consciously under the intimidating stare from Harry. My lord, it really is a fucking laser-like stare, like Harry’s trying to look into his soul. Louis is sure that’s not possible and if so, he sold his soul the moment he got involved with satan’s sweets, so all Harry would get a glimpse of is the void inside his chest.

Still, Louis wants to leave. Now. Before he can run for his life, he — of course — stumbles over his own feet, (he never could help but be clumsy in the worst of moments), and in trying to catch himself, he steps on the fucking rock he kicked earlier (karma is a bitch they say, and they were right). Said rock sends him flying, arms rowing uselessly in the air to regain his balance.

Closing his eyes, he hopes for the best.

His bum never makes contact with the pavement though. Instead, two strong hands grip him in time, holding him upright.

Surprised, he opens his eyes, green ones staring right back at him. Up close they look even more green, and he can make out brown little spots in them. Yes, that’s how close they actually are, he can see fucking sprinkles. Harry’s eyes look like two jade crystals reflecting the sunlight, and for the second time in under five minutes, he feels his breath being taken away from him.

“Careful,” Harry murmurs, letting go of Louis quickly, as if he’s being burned by him. He even takes a step back. Well, thank you. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thanks.” Louis says breathlessly, ignoring Harry’s last sentence and the odd hurt tugging at his chest in favour of not letting the embarrassment getting the better of him.

He feels his cheeks warm up though, and he knows he must look flustered going by the arrogant smile Harry gives him.

Louis puts a fake smile on his own face, "Now that we’ve cleared that up. I’m leaving now.” His heart is pounding in his throat as he looks over his shoulder, checking if there are any more stones he could break his ankle on. Seeing the pavement is free from any danger, he backs away towards the street.

"See you around.” _Or not_ , Louis thinks.

Harry pulls out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out, he nods dismissively, “Yeah, see you, whatever.”

Making a left turn, Louis resists the urge to jog, getting as much distance between him and Harry as he possibly can. What the fuck is up with this guy? One moment he’s-

“Louis!”

Louis stops in his tracks by reflex, looking back at Harry who’s sucking on his fag, looking extremely hot doing so. When he sees he’s got Louis’ attention, he cocks an eyebrow, something Louis has noticed he does a lot. Repressing a sigh, Louis puts his hands on his hips, getting irritated when Harry stays silent.

“What?” He coaxes impatiently.

Exhaling the smoke, Harry grins, clearly trying to hold back a laugh, as if Louis is the most amusing thing he has seen all day, “You’re walking in the wrong direction.”

Oh…Ah, well.

“I knew that.” Louis lies, puffing out his cheeks.

Harry blinks at him slowly like an owl, not believing him for a second, Louis can tell. Bringing his cigarette back to his pink lips, inhaling slowly, he looks at Louis like he’s trying to figure him out. The intense stare is back and it’s making Louis feel uneasy all over again.

“I can give you a ride.”

Expecting anything else but that coming from Harry, Louis' brows furrow. “Why?”

“I’ve got some business to do with Liam anyway, I can take you.” Harry shrugs insignificantly, stamping out his fag with his boot.

Louis _really_ wants to deny the offer but as he takes in his surroundings, he knows he will just end up walking in a circle again, never reaching the promised BBQ and dying a starved man.

But first —

“You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?” Louis knows it’s bullshit, but still, it never hurts to ask. Though a kidnapper probably wouldn’t say they’re going to kidnap you, Louis frowns.

“Louis, I’m being nice here. Go ahead and walk, see if I care.”

“All right, lead the way.” Recalling what Harry’s just said, he calls out for him to wait. Instead of stopping, Harry just turns and walks backwards, doing so much more elegantly than Louis had before. “What have you got to do with Liam?” Louis asks.

“You ask a _lot_ of questions.” Harry says instead of answering. “You coming or what? Does the prince need a special invitation? A handwritten letter send to your mansion?”

“I don’t live in a mansion.” Louis says, following Harry, jogging to keep up.

Louis can hear Harry’s snort as he disappears into another alley.  

There, parked neatly is an old bread van with two dimmed windows. The paint is fading and a scratch stretches over the passenger door, as if it had been done with a key. Louis tries not to think the worst as he takes the last couple of steps.  

“Did you steal this car?” He lets slip out before he can stop himself.

“First you accuse me of kidnapping you and now you’re saying I’m a thief as well? What’s next, you gonna ask me if I kill puppies in the basement too?” Harry unlocks the door, opening it with a shirking noise.

“Do you?” Louis asks, hopping into the car.

Harry’s shoulders slump forward as if he’s disappointed for some reason Louis doesn’t understand and lets the car come to life with a murmured, “I might throw you out again.”

“Sorry,” Louis says absently, looking around.

His bum is seated comfortably on leather, it’s smooth underneath the tips of his fingers as he lets them slide over the material. He can’t help but notice that it smells like Harry - not stolen then, Louis thinks to himself. The second thing is, it smells like cold smoke which is calming and disgusting at the same time. There is a cross hanging from the mirror, swinging from side to side, which Louis marks as another odd thing about the boy. Dragging his glance away from it, he looks down and sees a beautiful pack of cigarettes. He purses his lips, considering it for a moment.

“Can I take one?” He questions, wiggling his fingers.

“Be my guest.” Harry says, uninterested, green eyes focusing on the road.

Taking the fag between his lips, he fumbles with the lighter, clicking it several times until the flame licks at the cigarette, inhaling slowly he lets down the window, enjoying the cool air blowing his hair off his forehead. Louis blows out the smoke, flicking the ash off the end of his cig. He leans back in his seat, feeling much more relaxed now that nicotine is in his bloodstream.

“What are you looking at?” Louis says, feeling Harry’s gaze more than he sees it, which is a tad unsettling if he’s being honest.

Turning his eyes back to the road, the corner of Harry’s mouth turn up in an almost-not-quite-there-smile. “Didn’t know you smoke,’s all.”

“Yeah, well you also don’t know my last name.”

“It’s Tomlinson.”

Puzzled, Louis lifts his eyebrows. “How do—” Swallowing, he tries again. “How do you know that?"

Laughing, Harry tugs on one of his many curls, making it bounce. "I know your sister, remember?”

“Right. How do you know _her_ again?” Louis asks, brows furrowing displeased. He blinks slowly at Harry, still waiting for an answer he’s sure won’t come.

Harry takes a right turn without indicating. Harry drives smoothly, Louis has to say, his fingers almost gently sliding over the steering wheel like he’s caressing it. Louis starts to think the town is bigger than he’d thought at the beginning.  

Getting the odd feeling Harry is ignoring him, he blows smoke into the boy’s face, making him blink rapidly, “That's not nice.” He mutters, but Louis can see a little smile forming on his lips, “What'd you do that for?”

“Answer my question.” Louis says, throwing the cigarette out of the window, “No, wait.” He changes his mind before Harry can even make any attempt to answer, "I don’t want to hear the phase _it’s a small town_ ever again, because it’s just _not_.”

Louis is certain he’d never seen any of the houses they drive past.

Harry snorts, shaking his head in amusement because Louis is just _that_ entertaining today, it seems.

“Right.” Harry says with a serious voice, “You're from London, yeah? How come you’ve got a bad sense of direction?”

“I don’t.” Louis isn’t even lying, he could walk the streets of London with his eyes blindfolded and could find his favourite record store in no time. He’s new to Macclesfield, there aren’t any big landscapes you could orientate on besides fields, trees and the same looking houses, of course. There aren’t any big signs or memorable things.

So excuse him for not finding the fucking way on the first try.

Harry lets it drop then. Perhaps because he has nothing to say to that, or maybe he thinks Louis is still lying to him. Whatever the reason, the silence in the car feels oddly comfortable and because Louis hasn’t expected that, he lets it go as well.

He’s just glad it’s not awkward, at least. There isn’t any more tension filled with rude remarks and comebacks. Louis watches Harry’s profile for another moment, taking him in one last time, from the sharpness of his jaw to the hair curling over his ear, then he focuses back outside. Feeling slightly weird about the details he’s noticed about Harry's face in the short period of time they spent together. Louis tries not to think (and, well - fails) about the mole just under the corner of his mouth and the pinkness of his full pouty lips, when his thoughts wander to Harry's green eyes. He stops himself, blinking against the breeze, holding out his hand, enjoying the cool air running through his spread fingers.

The rest of the drive is spent like that, and though Louis can feel Harry's eyes on him from time to time, he ignores it in favour of watching the blur of houses they drive by.

Just as Louis’ lids drop, the car stops.

“Louis, we’re here.” Harry touches his shoulder gently, not shaking or anything, just touching.

Louis blinks his eyes open and gives Harry a tiny smile. “Thanks for the ride.” He says as he sees the house he remembers from yesterday.

“No worries.” Harry opens the door and hops out of the car before Louis can do anything.

He watches Harry surrounding the car and when he notices Louis hasn’t moved, he opens Louis' door as well, raising an eyebrow at him before leaning against the doorframe.

“D’you need help getting out of the car? Can’t your little legs reach the ground?”

Oh they were back at being cold towards each other, Louis thinks it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“Hilarious,” Louis deadpans. “Not only selling illegal shit but also being a comedian. Wow, you’ve been blessed in this life, Harold.” He slides out of the seat, shaking his legs out as he stands up.

“That’s not my name.” Harry says, slamming the door shut.

“It’s not?” Louis mutters, “By the way, what the hell are you doing?” He rubs sleep out of his eyes, blinking afterwards at Harry.

"It’s Harry - you know that.” He passes Louis. “And I’ve gotta talk to Liam remember?” Harry is saying just as the door swings open, and outside steps Niall, face lighting up in delight like a candle in the dark when he sees who it is.

“Thought I heard a car.” He says in greeting, then, “Louis, ace! Glad you found your way,” Niall grins, Harry throwing Louis an amused smirk of his own, Louis rolling his eyes back at him. “Harry!” Niall nods, “Wasn’t sure you were coming. It’s a nice surprise. How’s it going, mate?”

Trust Niall to be friends with a dealer, Louis muses as Harry embraces Niall in a tight hug. Louis remains unimpressed as Harry says his own hello.

He blinks, pursing his lips, because, well. To be honest, he’s kind of a hypocrite, there is one person he’s friends with who sells drugs, too. But he’s ruined that anyway, so that doesn’t count right?

Harry picks up a pack of beer Louis didn’t notice before, and carries it inside while making chit chat with Niall, both of them apparently forgetting Louis is still present. Louis blows out his cheeks, like a balloon and releases a heavy sigh. He’s not insulted, why would he be? This is simply childish.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, which is flat from the windy drive, he jogs up the stairs, and when Harry comes outside again, he’s almost colliding with Louis in the doorway.

“Oh,” Harry says catching Louis a second time by reflex.

They stand there looking at each other, Louis still in Harry's grip. "Uh...” He says awkwardly, feeling his neck heating up from the closeness.

He swallows, though his mouth is dry.

“After you,” Harry says just as breathlessly as Louis feels, and takes a step back. Making a go-on gesture with his hand.

“Thanks.” Louis passes him.

“You’re welcome.” Harry mutters, a mocking tone in his voice.

“Shut up.” Louis shoots back, rolling his eyes at Harry.

Being back in the house is nothing like he remembers from last night. He was so distracted by the people around him that he hadn’t bothered to get a good look around.

The coffee table is clean, free from any illegal substance whatsoever, the sofa is covered with a huge fluffy blanket, and there is no sign of the mess they made yesterday. In the corner of the room stands a wooden bookshelf, not filled with any books. Instead, there are picture frames placed upon the shelves. Louis makes a mental note to have a look at them later, being the curious person he is.

Opposite the couch there is a TV stand with the oldest telly in history stood on top of it. Louis is sure they don’t sell them in the stores anymore these days. The TV stand itself is filled with two rows of DVDs, and from where Louis is standing he can make out some titles. He scans over them, seeing the Harry Potter series next to Glamour Girls and Gossip Girl and he’s wondering for the first time who the house belongs to. Making another mental note to ask Niall that too, he glances to the open backdoor which seems to lead into the garden. Louis can smell smoke coming from outside.

“Move before you set roots.”

“Just go, Harry.” Louis says, swatting half-heartedly at the other boy as he passes. Harry sends him a weird look over his shoulder before he disappears outside.

He hears another round of greeting, Liam is here too. Louis takes another moment to linger in the living room. He kind of feels weird being here. Yesterday had been fun, yeah, but…Louis is just not sure if he really can do this. This feels different. Lara isn’t even with him.

Shut the fuck up, he tells himself, ruffling once more through his hair, fingers curling the tips.

What is _wrong_ with you? He thinks as he still stays put, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

He hasn’t had that feeling in a while, he’s never been awkward around people, he loves being the centre of attention but this…they all are so close. Maybe they don’t actually want him here and were just too nice to not invite him.

Liam texted you, he reminds himself, he wants you here.

He hears roaring laughter, Niall yelling something and another honk of laughter float inside. Louis can’t see them though, only has a view of a grass and trees, the blue sky. He’s considering getting the hell out of here, sure that they won’t notice nor care.

But then — “Louis?”

He startles, not expecting to hear that voice or any voice calling out to him if he’s honest. At this lack of reaction a hand grips his shoulder, bringing his attention to the owner of said hand. He look into Lara’s exhausted but smiling face, noting she has her brown hair pulled up into a loose bun, strands of it falling out, framing her heart-shaped face.  

Louis relaxes again, releasing a relieved breath.

“Uh hi,” rubbing his neck awkwardly, feeling damp sweat underneath his fingertips.

“Are you alright?” She asks softly, “You look a tad pale.”

“Didn’t get the best sleep.” Louis says, and as he sees concern shining in her eyes, he asks, "How was work? Heard you had to stay longer?”

Lara sighs, rolling her eyes, concern switched with annoyance. “Let’s not talk about that.” She says, rubbing her stomach, she adds, “Besides I’m hungry and it already smells like heaven.”

Before Louis can get another word out, she’s already tugging him by his hand. Caught off guard, he stumbles after her and before he can protest, they are out on the terrace.

“Lara, uh…” He trails off as the sunlight hits him like a beaming laser. “Jesus.” He mutters under his breath, shielding his eyes from the brightness.

The smell of smoke is stronger here, caused by an open fire. A grille placed in the middle of the green is already filled with sausages and streaks that swing slowly from side to side over the embers. Just looking at it makes his stomach turn.

“Lara,” Niall exclaims in delight, getting up from the plastic chair and ambling over to them. “Was already wondering where my favourite girl was at!” Wrapping her in a hug while Louis stays awkwardly behind, Niall kisses her cheeks noisily as she swats at him, nose wrinkled.  

“Get off of me!” Lara shoves at his sides as Niall holds her tighter. “Lemme live!”

“Make me.” Niall dares, kissing her cheek again and tickling her sides.

“Stop it!” Lara shirks, the fake annoyance breaking. She giggles. “Niall!”

Louis shifts his weight, unsure what to do with his hands, he buries them in his pockets.

“Nice to see who joined us outside, finally.” Harry says from his seat next to Liam, lifting his brows when Louis looks his way. “Thought you’d left.”

“Louis!” Liam exclaims, friendly eyes smiling at him. Louis brings his attention to him instead, pointedly ignoring Harry’s remark. “Nice seeing you again! Sit down! C’mon.” Liam pats the spot on his other side, the bench big enough for three people.  

Louis smiles, relief lifting the weight off his shoulders as he slides down next to Liam. “Yeah, I—”

“He was lost.” Harry cuts him off, smirking. “Next time see if you can get a map when you leave the house.”

“Lost?” Liam asks concerned, turning his head from Harry to Louis. “In Macclesfield?”

They say it like it’s unbelievable that such a thing might happen. Louis rolls his eyes, it’s so easy for them to say, they were born here. Louis knows London inside out, he’d love for them to find their way from one corner to the other. They’d cry out for help, if they tried.

Harry snorts. “I know.”

“Leave Louis alone.” Lara chirps in, thank god. She detached herself from Niall, finally, grinning at the three of them. “He’s been here only since yesterday!”

“See.” Louis says, waving an airy hand. “It’s not that difficult to understand.”

Liam pats his shoulder. “You’re right. Sorry, call me next time, I would've walked you.” He smiles warmly at Louis.

“Thanks mate.” Louis responds.

“And you!” Lara pokes a sharp finger in Harry’s chest. “What the hell was that yesterday anyway?” She lifts a threatening eyebrow. “ _It’s not your company I’m drawn to, it’s your money._ ” She mocks Harry, voice deeper than usual. “As if, H, you couldn't live without me!”

Harry catches her finger with his hands, holding it safely, so she can’t poke him again. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. “Well, you brought some stray dog along.” He says, and wow, okay. Louis’ eyebrows pull together. “You know my rules. I was pissed.”

Lara rolls her eyes and despite her words, she plops down on Harry’s lap. Immediately, he wraps his arms around her tiny waist. Louis blinks at them, still progressing the words, because…did Harry just call him a stray dog? Seriously? Louis gulps down his irritation, biting his lip and directing his gaze to his lap. He fiddles with his fingers. He won’t get mad at that. He won’t. Also, he isn’t hurt. Absolutely not.

“So, Louis,” Liam starts, bringing him out of his headspace and giving Louis a genuine smile, brown eyes sparking in the afternoon sun. “You hungry?”

His stomach answers for him with a loud grumble, both of them chuckling at it.

“I guess that’s a yes then.” Liam nods. “Niall, c’mon, our guest is hungry, let's see if the food is ready!” He calls out to Niall who just then shows up in the doorway, the six pack of beer Harry carried inside trapped under his arm.

“Aye, aye!” Niall grins. Placing the pack on the wooden table, he hands everyone a bottle of cool beer.

Louis accepts it with a grateful smile. Yeah, this will all go much smoother with alcohol in his system. Human interaction that is. Louis takes a long and much needed gulp, swallowing and wiping some drops from his chin. “Thanks, s’good.” He says, relaxing back against the bench, placing the bottle on top of his thigh.

Niall nods, grinning and taking a sip himself.

The more Louis drinks, the looser he gets and it’s easier to ignore the dark glares Harry sends his way every time Louis speaks up. He just gives all of his attention to Lara, Liam, and Niall. You know, people who appear to be happy he is here, who don’t snort at his comments or roll their eyes at Louis' opinions.

When his tummy is full and through his veins flood alcohol, he dares to briefly glance Harry’s way. They make eye contact instantly and Louis tries not to squirm under the too intense stare of the evergreen eyes.

He refuses to acknowledge the nagging feeling in his gut as the night goes on. There is no reason to get flustered when Harry looks at him, there is no reason to take in Harry's pretty face or notice how his curls bounce when he throws his head back, laughing, exposing his bare throat. There is no reason to send a glare at Harry’s hand that is relaxed holding onto Lara’s waist.

There is no reason for any of that. So Louis ignores it, drinks more beer and pulls Niall into a conversation about Niall’s beloved guitar. (Louis is so, so glad, he remembers the fact Niall plays guitar from yesterday).  

So, it’s all good and beautiful, the weather lasts, the sky doesn’t break and Louis’ moody thoughts don’t make an appearance again for the time being.

Louis realises he’s actually enjoying himself, much to his surprise.

 

*  *  *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading! :)

 

 

*  *  *

 

Later that evening, when the sun has disappeared and taken its warmth with it, they are gathered around a glimmering bonfire, warming their hands on the flickering red and orange glowing sparks. It’s a clement, angelic night; the celestial sphere is dipped in a Prussian blue, sprinkled with twinkling stars.

They put on some music, the mellow sound floating around and blending with the breeze to encompass them. Amalgamate the fire and the sky, the music and the clan he’s with, and it sets a marvellous, heartfelt atmosphere.

The former apprehension he endured has been erased and replaced by cordiality.

Louis is watching the bittersweet orange, evoking a time when Lottie and himself were sitting in front of the fireplace, cuddled together covered by thick blankets, hands curling around mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He’d tell her jokes and she’d laugh at every single one of them whilst their dad watched from the doorway, a little happy smile illuminating his face. Louis’ lips twitch at the memory, and mitigates instantaneously, since the memory is tied to the missing presence of his mother. Reeling himself out of it, he squints directly into the shine of the sea of sparkles in front of him.

Though it’s a fitting time to get nostalgic, it’s not the appropriate environment. The others around him are chatting composedly, taking sips of their beers, like him just enjoying the hour. He fumbles to get a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and when he does, he clicks the lighter once, lips stretched around the cig, sucking. He draws in the serene smoke, fresh nicotine whirring underneath his skin.

"Enjoying yourself?" An extraordinarily deep voice drawls from his left. Louis refrains from letting his lashes flutter open, just a prolonged beat. Veritably, he wasn’t aware of closing them to begin with. He can see illusions of dazzling colours dancing, it’s rather lovely.

"I am." Louis murmurs, slowly emitting astringent fumes.

He feels fingers touching his, and the crisp breath hitches in his throat. He might have let out a little sound, though he’s not sure.

Louis lets Harry take the cigarette from him. Blinking, he opens his eyes, studying Harry as he inhales the smoke. In the incandescent light, he looks benign, somehow more boyish than in daylight. One half of his face is hidden by the shadows, green eyes reflecting the quavering embers.

He passes the fag to Louis, and when he doesn’t react immediately, he nudges his arm. Harry exhales, arching an eyebrow at his hazy stare. Louis’ gaze flashes to the fire, taking his own drag from the gleaming stick, keeping his thoughts free of the comprehension that Harry’s lips caressed the same cig he’s currently sucking on.

"What about you?" Louis reverbates the question, his voice gentler than he dares to admit.

"Yeah.” Harry says with a shrug. Louis waits for more to come, but when he conceives Harry won’t declare any further, he presumes, for them, it’s sufficient enough as it is.

"Harry." Louis instinctively gazes in Liam’s direction as he speaks. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Interest sparked, Louis watches Harry get up and trail behind Liam, heading to the house, shoulders slumping in a way that he makes him appear smaller, roughly folding in on himself.

Louis presses the sharp point of his index-knuckle against his left closed-lid, rubbing it drowsily back and forth. He holds onto the cigarette like it’s a spliff, to the point where it’s entirely burned down and heat licks on the pads of his fingers. He tosses the filter in the embers that crackle happily.

"You wanna stay?" Lara sits on the chair Harry was previously sat in, smiling at him.

He must have zoned out once more, he didn’t hear her approach him.

"Wha’ time is it?" He asks around a yawn.

"Past midnight."

He scoffs at that, “S’early.”

“Gotta work tomorrow, though.” She elucidates, mortified.

“And? You can’t leave just yet,” Niall protests, sitting down on the grass, spine leaning against Lara’s shins. Her hand cradles his blond hair automatically. “Haven’t got the good stuff out yet.”

Louis’ ears perk up at that, like a dog hearing a noise in the distance, but he remains silent, leaving the decision to Lara.

“Dunno, Niall.” She says, desire to stay clear in her kind voice.

“Mondays are slow days, anyway.” Louis interferes, sensing that Lara is on the edge of giving in.

"Yeah, that’s right." Niall says in delight, as he notices Louis is on his side. "C’mon Lara."

Her hands stop running through Niall’s hair, and he makes a little protesting noise at that. She evaluates her decision, bobbing her head from side to side. "Whatever,” She mutters then, “if I crash the car, it’s your fault." She pokes Niall on the head, rubbing the spot afterwards.

“Great!” Niall gets to his feet, patting his bum to get dirt off of his jeans. “Lemme get the shit.”

Just as Niall is halfway to the house, the terrace door swings open. Like a tornado, Harry comes storming out, Liam in tow. “C’mon H.” He says, pleading. Louis quirks an eyebrow at the sight, Harry gathering his stuff, arms slipping into his leather jacket.

“What’s goin’ on?” Lara asks, alarm in her tone.

“I’m off." Harry says with a tight voice. “Gonna drive back to Manchester." He says, throwing Liam a glare.

“Mate.” Liam says. “Stay, it’s late."

“Dunno how you can be so calm about this-" Harry stops himself, spinning around, his back to the fire, facing Liam. “But _I am not_ , so please, just let me go."

“Alright…” Liam holds up his palms in surrender, “have it your way."

“Thanks." He passes Liam, not giving a single goodbye to anyone else.

Louis frowns, deep lines wrinkling on his forehead.

"Liam?" Lara asks, carefully.

Liam shakes his head, dismissively. "Leave it."

"I think it’s the perfect time to get high!" Niall calls, faking enthusiasm and making an awkward swing movement with his arm, fist bumping empty air. He then jogs up to the house, glass door falling shut behind him.

“Yeah,” Liam mutters, flopping heavily on the plastic chair. He sinks low enough that he can dip his head against the rest. Liam closes his eyelids, probably to avoid Lara’s worried look.

Louis doesn’t know what he should do. Speaking up would be a mistake, he thinks. He’s curious though.Liam doesn’t seem like a guy who enjoys a fight. Maybe it’s all Harry, Louis muses, probably the boy’s fault upsetting Liam like that.

"Thought Harry lives in Macclesfield?" Louis questions into the darkness as he plays with the seam of his shirt, finger curling into the fabric. He tries to poke a hole through it, but when he sees it’s not working, he leaves it be.

Lara giggles quietly. “Yeah, he does,” There is a joke in her eyes Louis can’t read. The amused expression changes a second later, her face shifting into a frown again.

 _What’s he doing in Manchester then?_ Louis wants to ask, _why is he driving there so late at night? What happened?_ He doesn’t though, it’s not his place to ask anyway.

As Liam starts jiggling his leg and Lara continues sending him anxious glances, Louis can’t stand the  tension anymore.

When Niall returns and starts rolling joints, the flame of the fire has reduced to just a crackling sound, leaving them in almost entire darkness. Niall surely can’t see much, maybe he does it so often he could roll a blunt blindfolded.

"Maybe I should go after him." Liam says, already getting up from his spot. He dials a number on his phone, pressing it to his ear.

Louis furrows his brows once more. Harry’s left ten minutes ago, he’s gone by now, probably on the motorway already.

"Harry." Liam says, “Hang on, I’m coming with you."

Niall lights up the joint, the clicking sound echoing in Louis’ skull.

"Alright,” Liam says just then, waving a half-hearted goodbye over his shoulder as he sprints across the grass and disappears around the building.

"Damn." Niall says on an exhale. "We’re dropping like flies."

Lara snorts, but her amusement is short-lived as she nibbles on her lower lip nervously.

"Gimme." Louis says, making grabby-hands at Niall.

Niall hands him the joint carefully, trying to ensure it doesn’t drop.

After two long drags of weed, Louis passes it to Lara, trying to get her to stop squirming where she’s seated.

“Thanks.” She mutters, inhaling.

As Niall lights another joint, sensing he lost his to Lara completely, Louis speaks up again:

"Does anyone know what that was about?"

Lara and Niall share a look. Louis peers at them, sure that they know the truth.

Niall shrugs, "Not getting involved in this." He says.

"Bet Harry’s overreacting and Liam just wants to make sure he’s okay." Lara holds the steam in her lungs, voice pressed.

"Does that happen often?" Louis wonders, pulling at his lip.

"Define often." Niall says, passing him the joint a second time.

"It does _not_ happen often." Lara corrects, sending Niall a scattered glance.

The effects of the joint catch up to Louis, and he goes pliant, relaxing his shoulders and enjoying the way the marijuana manipulates his body. Making his skin hum more extremely than nicotine ever could.

“Remember when—”

"Shut up Niall." Lara interrupts.

"Alright, alright."

They won’t spill a thing, Louis thinks, losing interest in it entirely as his mind degrades to mush under the influence of the marijuana. He shouldn’t care about it anyway, considering Harry and he are no way near being friends, cigarette sharing or not. It all sounds very personal and Louis is skeptical as to whether he wants to get dragged into it or not. He might regret not pressing the affair later, but for now he will leave it be. The buzzing in his bones makes it hard to think, so Louis stops trying.

They sit in reticence, music playing on loop in the background. He can’t pinpoint the song, though it has a nice melody. The stars are beaming bright, the moon glowing above, the leaves rustling in the wind. Louis' throat is dry.

“Need somfi—” Louis murmurs, the heaviness of his tongue making it difficult to form a sentence. He clears his airway, trying again to voice his needs. “Drink.” He gasps.

Someone nudges a bottle against his kneecap, blindly he grabs the neck, feeling the cool glass against his clammy fingers. His lifesaver might have said something, but he can’t make out the words. So he gulps the liquor down, turns out it’s water and not beer like he expected.

Louis swallows eagerly, but in his haste to drown the water, he spills it, feeling drops run down his chin. Coughing he wipes his jaw, brushing off the wetness on his trousers.

"Thanks." He croaks at whoever gave him the drink.

"Seems like Lou’s ready for bed." Lara teases.

Louis squints at her, smiling sleepily. "Aren’t we all?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Bed sounds good." Niall agrees.

Gathering their things, they go inside. It’s nicely warm and Louis has to force his legs to move the few steps to the sofa. He flops down face-first and buries himself into one of the pillows. By the stiffness of it, Louis thinks it might only be for decoration. It’ll have to do it, though, since he’s too lethargic to move a single inch.

Again, someone helps him out, slipping his shoes off his feet and throwing a blanket over his body. He flickers his eyes half-open, glimpsing through his lashes Lara, hovering over him, tugging at one corner of the duvet, smoothing it between his limp shoulder blades.

He smiles at her, at least he thinks it’s a smile. Feels like something halfway there.

"Night, Lou." She whispers, cradling his hair before disappearing. Like a whiff. Like a cherubic fairy. Puff - and she's gone. Magic.

“Night..." Louis murmurs a tick too late.

Sleep catches up with him in no time.

 

*   *   *

 

Louis is rudely awoken by two rough hands shaking his shoulders. He startles, gasping at the sudden distortion. He’s just had a lovely dream about green eyes reflecting flames. So yeah, needless to say, he’d rather stay in the dream for a bit longer. Louis blinks as said dream eyes are staring at him.

“Harry?” Louis rubs his own eyes, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Whatcha doing here?”

Harry towers over him, brows drawn together in a tight line, though the ends of his mouth twitch in amusement. Chocolate curls fall in his face, framing it gingerly. Harry tucks it behind his ear.

“What do you mean?“ He says, arching an eyebrow, standing upright again, now that Louis is awake. “You’re the one sleeping on _my_ sofa.“

“What?” Louis grumbles, confused. He blinks some more as the words catch up to his sleep-drunken brain. “What?“ He repeats, louder this time.

Harry folds his arms across his broad chest, biceps bulging. “It's my house, why are you still here?”

“This is your house?” He asks, dumbfounded. Because, _what?_

“That’s what I just said, are you daft or something?”

Louis starts to think Harry is right about that one, because he’s not understanding a thing. It all gives him a headache though, the vein on his temple pounding horribly. He straightens his spine, drawing his knees to his chest. He wraps both arms around them, intertwining his fingers on his shins.

“’M’not daft,” He mutters, lowering his gaze, “please excuse me for being confused, no one told me it’s your fucking house, all right?” Louis never asked Niall who the owner is, like he had wanted to do. He should have done that, looking at it now.

“Alright, now you know.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, massaging his forehead, “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get up and leave.”

Drained of the whole situation, Louis releases a short puff of air. “You don’t have to be so rude, y’know?”

Stunned, Harry gazes down at him, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down tenderly. Louis can’t help but stare, and he sure will blame it on the lack of sleep.

“Sorry,” Harry says, releasing his lip, wetting it afterwards with a quick flick of his pink kitten-like tongue. Louis' gaze flickers to Harry's eyes, the look on his face more sincere now, his brows smoothed out. Harry crunches his nose cutely and Louis should not use a word like _cute_ to describe Harry, since he’s anything but. “It’s midday.”

Once again, Louis is irritated, and it must show on his face because Harry chuckles lightly, “You asked what time it is.”

“Midday isn’t a time.”

Harry inhales calmly, his eyes widen with the motion. He’s getting annoyed again and Louis is too exhausted for another fight. It's too early.

“Sorry, sorry — Midday, I get it.” Louis mumbles, a tad cranky himself. He gets up from the sofa, stretching, with the movement, his joints pop, he groans satisfied, rolling his head from side to side. “Are the others still here?” He asks, the left corner of his mouth stretching higher when he descries Harry staring at him.

Harry averts his gaze. “No, they’re gone.” He walks around the sofa and disappears into what must be the kitchen, as Louis recalls.

Staring blankly at the doorframe, Louis frowns. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” He calls out.

“I don’t know.” Harry answers, voice raised, “I just got here.”

Right.

Louis sees his shoes neatly placed beneath the coffee table. He vaguely remembers Lara throwing the blanket over him before he passed out.

Pursing his lips, he decides it’s for the best if he leaves right here and now. But then he hears Harry’s voice once more, asking, “Coffee or tea?” as he pokes his head out of the kitchen, a small smile on his lips as he sees Louis is still standing between couch and table.

“Uh, tea please,” he says and rounds the sofa, leaning against the doorframe and watches Harry prepare tea. He opens a cabinet, stretching his long torso to reach it. Louis can see his back muscles working under his thin black tee.

Louis scratches at his hairline, and rubs under his nose afterwards, feeling just a bit awkward to be alone with Harry again.

Harry makes a humming sound low in his throat, fingers twitching in the air.

“Do you need help finding mugs?” Louis asks, frowning. He's never seen anyone more lost in their own home.

The other boy does a weird snorting-choking sound, and lowers himself on his heels, circling around to face Louis. “I don’t need help.” He mutters, “S’just, every time that lot hangs out at mine, they place the stuff somewhere else.”

“Right.” Louis says, shuffling forward, placing his elbows on the breakfast bar, clapping his hands together and resting his chin on top. “Why’d they hang out here if it’s your house?”

“It’s my family home.” Harry turns his back on Louis, opening another cabinet. He makes a noise of triumph, getting two mugs out of it and closing it with a thud.

Harry busies himself by boiling the water, avoiding Louis' gaze.

Louis is sure Harry didn’t mean to say that, and Louis is also sure Harry doesn’t want him to press the topic, but…

“Why’d they hang out in your family home?” He questions, “Where is your family?” Louis looks around. He knows they are alone, but still, it’d be super awkward if Harry's mum were to pop out of nowhere.

“Not here,” Harry states the obvious, shoulders stiffening. He pours the steaming water in the two mugs, sliding Louis’ over the counter. Louis’ hands curl around it while he blows over the brewing water. He inhales gratefully the aroma of herbs, his nostrils flaring.

“Want some brekkie?” Harry changes the topic as he takes a careful sip of his own tea, doing the cute nose scrunch again at the hot water. “I think Niall ate the rest of the eggs but I think-”

“I’m good.” Louis interrupts. He’s not hungry, so tea is enough for now. “Thanks though.”

Harry leans his bum against the kitchen sink, looking out of the small window Niall tried to get out of two nights prior. Louis represses a snort at the memory and sips his warm tea.

They stand there in silence. It’s not as awkward as Louis had expected it to be and he wonders why Harry tries so hard to seem rude most of the time. Maybe it’s just because of Louis himself. Harry is friends with Lara, Niall and Liam, letting them hang out in his house, when he himself isn’t present. So how bad of a human being can the drug dealer be?

“Did Liam catch you?” He asks, biting his tongue for letting it slip out.

Harry goes tense.

“Yes,” His voice is hard and he keeps his glare outside the window, jaw clenching, making it look sharper.

Louis shouldn’t…but, “What was the fight about?” He asks anyway.

“Fight?” Harry turns towards him then, baffled expression on his face. He tucks a curl behind his ear, which escapes a moment later, falling in his eyes.

“Remember you and Liam shouting at each other in the garden, last night?”Louis lifts his eyebrows, “Your dramatic exit?”

The baffled look on his face is replaced by hardness, his lips in a tense line. “Nothing you should worry about.” He says curtly. “And, it’s time for you to leave anyway.”

Oh.

“I still got some tea left though.” Louis pouts down at his half-full mug.

“Well, drink another when you get home, then.” Harry says, taking the tea from Louis. He dumps the rest in the sink, along with his own.

Louis peers at him, now that Rude-Harry has made a reappearance, his mood to stay disappeared anyway.

“Alright, whatever,” He says, his voice harsh. “Thanks for the tea.” Pursing his lips he adds, “And your sofa.”

“Whatever,” Harry scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and Louis wonders what the matter is with Harry.

The boy is confusing the hell out of Louis and he’s done with it.

“Great,” Louis leaves the kitchen, pulling on his shoes and is out of the door in no time, slamming it loudly behind him.

One problem though. He stops in his tracks, taking in the street in front of him.

He has no idea where the hell he is.

Rolling his eyes up to the cloudy sky, he sighs long and suffering.

Of — fucking — course.

Counting to three, he turns around, staring blankly at the closed door.

“Don’t be a frog.” He mutters to himself, holding up his fist, he can’t bring himself to knock.

One, two, three, four, Louis listens to his heartbeat. He makes another attempt to knock, recoiling before his fist makes contact with the door. He glowers at it again, brooding hard, his brows furrowed.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes, circling around.

He’s halfway down the stairs when the door reopens behind him.

“What’re you doing?” Harry leans against the doorframe, arms folded loosely over his stomach, an amused glint in the green of his eyes.

Louis puffs out his cheeks. He had thought Lara was confusing with her mood swings, but Harry has taken it to a new level.

“Were you watching me?” He asks instead of answering the question.

“No,” Harry draws the word in its length, “maybe.” He backtracks, exhaling shortly.

“Okay.”

They look at each other for a moment, the only sound the chirping of birds.

“I’m going.” Louis announces, making no attempt to do so.

“Alright.”

“You’re weird.” Louis blurts out, precipitately, and winces inwardly, he wasn’t aware his mouth could be that much quicker than his brain.

Harry’s brows knit, the end of his lips tugging downwards. “You’re the one staring at me. It’s creepy.”

Gathering himself, Louis swirls around, walking down the rest of the steps. “Bye Harry,” He calls over his shoulder. He will find the way on his own, better than asking Harry again and making a bigger fool out of himself. Louis can’t help but glance back, Harry still stands where he’s left him.

He’s staring after Louis, fingers tapping on his upper thigh. As their eyes meet, he seems to shake himself out of deep thoughts and a beat later closes the door with a faint click.

Louis slows his pace, he’s midway down the street, in front of him a junction. There are more cars driving than he’s seen in this town, so that seems to be a good sign, right?

Walking further, he crosses the street, concentrating on not getting hit by a car rather than the curly boy he’s left behind. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Louis stops in his tracks, when he walks past the diner he remembers from the walk with Lara. He peeks through the window, seeing people eating their lunch.

He makes a fish mouth as he recognises a blonde head. A little bell above him rings when he enters the diner. Louis inhales the smell of fried chips and something oddly sweet, he wrinkles his nose.

“Louis?”

He’s been right about this one, though.

Niall rounds the counter, standing in front of him, two glasses of bubbling soda in his hands.

“Hi Niall,” Louis says, drawing his shoulders to his ears and letting them sink a moment later. “Thanks for not waking me up this morning.”

Niall chuckles. “Oh, yeah,” He hands the drinks to the customers sitting to their right, he says something and they smile at him, taking their drinks.

A second later, he turns back to face Louis, smile still in place, hands on his hips. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, puffing out his rosy cheeks. There is a layer of sweat on his forehead, “You were still out like a light, thought s’the best to let yer arse sleep.”

As much as Louis would appreciate that in any other place, he frowns. “Harry woke me up.”

Perplexed, Niall squints at him “Harry?” he says as if he’s never heard that name before, brows lifting higher by the second.

“Yes?” Louis purses his lips.

“Oh well, ‘s good that he’s home then.”

Manchester. Right. Whatever mysterious thing he had to do there.

“Niall!” A voice calls out to the fake blonde, causing both of them to startle and blink wide-eyed as a tough looking guy pops his face out of a small look-through from the kitchen, rubbing his hands on a dingy towel, his podgy face grim.

“Get back to work; chit-chat in your break.” He grunts, blue sunken eyes flickering from Niall to Louis. “’Ve got two meals ready.”

Niall claps his hands, smiling brightly at Louis, unaffected by the harsh tone of the other man. “Right, so. You want a booth or something?”

“Nah,” Louis says, trailing behind Niall, who is now rounding the counter. Louis places his elbows on the surface, watching Niall taking two plates from the chef. “Actually, could you tell me how I get to Lottie’s?”

Niall walks past him, placing the plates on a table, far behind.

When he comes back, he looks surprised, “Sure?”

“Yeah, would be ace.”

After Niall explains to him how to get home, he’s out once more onto the street, walking in the right direction now. At least he hopes so, Niall had to serve more customers in between naming road names, but Louis is certain it’s the correct way.

Sure enough he reaches the little white house of his sister, her car parked in the driveway. The door flies open before he’s had the chance to make it up the stairs. He stops in his motions, looking up at Lottie’s unimpressed face. She has her arms folded and lifts one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as their gazes meet.

“Where have you been?” Lottie asks.

“With Lara.”

Lottie glances to the neighbours house. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, I’ve been with her friends.” He corrects himself. Louis slips past her in the hallway. It’s cool in here, a pleasant change in temperature, the walk here having made him sweaty again. e hopes it will rain soon, he can’t stand the heat.

Lottie does nothing but stare him down. He swallows. They never really fight and he’s a little puzzled by her anger.

“What?” He asks, as she stays mute.

“Tried to call you on your phone.” She says.

“Forgot it.” He pulls one side of his mouth down. “Stupid me.” He gives her a fake smile, trying to reach the stairs before this gets out of hand.

He’s tired and sweaty and not in the mood for an argument with his sister.

“I know.” She grits through her teeth, like an angry cat, she even bares them afterwards, non-existing fur sticking up from her neck. At least in Louis' mind. He's impressed.

“Lottie.” He groans, leaning an arm over the railing, waving his hand in the air, wiggling his fingers, “Let it drop.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Okay, no need for that.”

“You’re here so I can keep an eye on you, not for you to sneak out when we’re at work.”

He rolls his head into his neck, closing his lids for a brief moment, and gathering himself, he looks back at his sister.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not a child, Lottie.” He says, “I’m away from London, yeah?”

“I know you’re not a child.” She pouts, “Took the day off, so we could spend it together.”

Oh.

“I didn’t know that.” He says softly, “You didn’t tell me.”

“Called in this morning, said I was sick.”

He snorts at that, and Lottie smiles at him, fight apparently forgotten. Thank fuck.

“Well, I’m here now.” He says, drawing her in for a hug. She nuzzles his neck, pressing close. “Lemme shower and take a nap, then I’m all yours.” He says, kissing the top of her blonde head.

“Yeah, you stink.” She says, pulling out of his embrace, wrinkling her nose.

Shocked laughter bubble out of him, “Thanks so much.” He says, rolling his eyes, “I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, don’t forget to brush your teeth, smells like something died in your mouth.”

Look who’s back to being mean. Still, when Lottie’s back is on him, he breathes into his cupped palm, checking his halitosis. He’s the one wrinkling his nose in revulsion. Lottie was correct about that one - it smells like something disturbingly dead.

“Waiting for you,” Lottie calls from the living room. She’s switched on the telly, voices floating to him in the entrance.

He jogs up the staircase, quickly collecting his toiletries before entering the bathroom.

Louis looks like a proper mess, he finds out the moment he catches his reflection in the mirror. The white of his eyes are patterned with fine red veins, he’s got bags below them and his skin is gruesomely pale. He strokes his hands over his cheeks, cupping them and sucking them in, making a fish-mouth.

His sand-coloured hair sticks up in every possible direction and he can’t believe he just walked through the city looking like that. He faced Harry looking like that.

Louis stops his thoughts, seeing his forehead crumple and his blue irises darken a shade. Why does it matter if Harry saw him like that, eh? Because it does _not_. Harry didn’t look the best either. Green eyes, red rimmed and clothes wrinkled like he slept in them.  

He rubs two fingers at both sides of his nose, then beneath, breathing leisurely through his nostrils, he grimaces when he touches a wet substance. Batting his lids open in confusion he stares aghast at his fingertips. His left eyebrow twitches when he takes in the blood that’s smudged on his index-pad and thumb. He wipes his nose with his wrist manically, body tensing when more blood drips out of his nose and drops onto his skin.

Great, Louis muses darkly, washing it off and getting toilet paper to still the bleeding. It doesn’t do much and he groans in frustration when the white paper is completely soaked in no time.

Closing his eyes, he dips his head in his neck, willing the blood to flow back to where it belongs — back into his body. He feels like the biggest tosser on earth, standing in his sister's bathroom with toilet paper rolled up and stuck in his nostrils, but after a few minutes of remaining motionless and breathing evenly through the gap of his mouth, the bleeding stops and he throws the paper in the toilet, flushing it with a slap of his palm and switching on the shower with such a force, the water crashes out of the tiny holes like a waterfall.

Anyway, problem solved, he guesses.

Whilst he’s waiting for the water to become bearable, he looks through the cabinet above the washbasin, searching for nothing in particular, just busying himself so he doesn’t have to look in the mirror again.

His fingers slide over the little orange bottles, until they linger on one. He cocks an interested eyebrow at it and stands down on his heels. He won’t ever admit out loud, but he had to stand on his tiptoes to get a better look inside the cabinet.

Rolling it in his hand until he hit upon sign of the label, he hums in interest: Painkillers.

A bell rings in his mind, like he’s just won the lottery. Ding Ding - dingeling.

 _Oxycodone_. Louis knows those pills, from hours spent browsing the internet, looking at stuff that would help his headaches and let sleep come to him easier.

Before he can think about why Lottie has them stocked in her bathroom, he takes four out, swallowing them dry, Adam’s apple bobbing to get the fuckers down his throat. He closes the cabinet after putting the bottle back in its former spot.

He steps under the hot stream of the shower, feeling dizzy as it unfurls in his nostrils.

Louis bows his chin to his chest, letting the warm water run down his aching neck, relaxing all his stiff muscles from sleeping on the hard sofa.

He shampoos his hair, scrubs his body twice to make sure to get rid of all the sweat that sticks to his skin like nasty glue. When he’s done, he blinks his wet lashes open, not caring that the water makes his eyes burn, he actually welcomes it.

When he gets out of the shower, towelling his body dry, he’s already feeling the effects of the painkillers. The edges of his vision blur like he's walking through a cloud. His brain is a tad fuzzy, too.

With slow hands he pulls his fresh boxers over his legs, letting the waistband snap against his navel. He plays with the dark hair there, smoothing it after with his palm.

Shaking his damp hair out like a dog, he returns to his room, not bothering to close the door. He collapses on the bed like a doll without batteries. Pressing his dried and clean nose into the pillow, he inhales and exhales languidly.

 _God_ , he’s tired.

He can feel all his bones hum with it, and his skin feels tight around them. He’s on the edge of sleep when he picks up naked feet patting over the laminate.

They stop in front of the bed, Lottie releases a long breath. Louis keeps his lids closed, pretends to be asleep as he waits for her to leave. She doesn’t though, and he shouldn’t be surprised to feel a finger poke his big toe. Louis’ whole foot twitches with it. Then fingers tickle his sole and he kicks out in surprise, gasping for air as giggles swirl out of his mouth.

“Stop! Uhh- ha-” He pleads, gasping, “Lottie!”

Louis kicks at her, which is a mistake as she catches his foot in the air, hugging it close to her chest, whilst twisting her body so she has a death grip on it, merciless fingers dancing over his skin. It shoots up his spine, making him try his best to squirm away from where he’s lying. He grabs hold of her waist, pulling her down. She squeaks in surprise. Louis starts tickling her flanks, as she’s the one now gasping for air, trying helplessly to get his hands off of her.

“Louis — Louis. Please.” She yells, right in his ear, giving him another of those pounding headaches he tried to get rid of.

His fingers still and he lets her calm down. They both giggle at each other, face-splitting smiles on their faces.

“What was that for?” Louis asks, putting his cheek back on the pillow, rubbing it against the soft fabric. He glimpses at her, chest heaving.

Lottie rolls onto her side, arm under her cheek as her personal pillow.

She pouts. “I was bored.”

“And I was asleep.”

“You were not.” She shoots back, sticking out her tongue.

“No, I wasn’t,” He says matter-of-factly, giving her a look, “because someone interrupted me.”

“Wanted to talk to you.”

Louis can’t say he’s surprised by it. Still, he closes his lids for a brief moment, exhaling. “Lottie,” He groans, “there's nothing t’talk ‘bout.”

“How are you?”

“Tired.” He rolls his eyes at his sister, causing her to slap his chest.

“Seriously,” Her gaze shifts sternly and he knows he cannot talk himself out of it.

However, he can try.

“I’m good.”

“Lou- _is_.”

“Lot- _tie_.”

“Talk.”

“About _what_?” He exclaims, sitting up cross-legged. Louis feels his throat tightening.

“Opening up about it is healthy. Would do you good.”

“Let it go.” He scrambles over her legs, and jumps off the bed. He lands ungracefully, arms rowing in the air to gain balance.

Brushing his hair out of his vision, he gathers his things.

“Where are you going?” Lottie asks, sitting up. He can feel her gaze on his back without turning around.

“I’m going out for a walk.”

“Louis…” Lottie whines, softly.

“No, I’m not doing this.” Louis presses out, heart hammering in his chest.

Fucking painkillers, making him all dizzy.

He stumbles, trying to pull on his jeans from the day before.

He hops on one leg until he catches himself on the door, placing a hand against it to steady himself. Louis will not sit here with his sister and talk about feelings, problems or whatever she has in mind. She can fuck right off. Thank you very much but he’s just fucking _fine_.

Fuck feelings.

There is no such thing in his body.

It’s a lie, he knows because currently, he’s feeling like utter shit.

Anyway, pulling on his shoes and shirt, still avoiding Lottie’s concerned, hurt eyes, he’s out of the door a second later. Taking two steps at a time, he’s flying down the stairs. On his way out, he makes sure to slam the door closed.

He jogs down the road, trying to bring as much distance as he can between him and the house. Louis spares no thought to where he’s going, what he is even _doing_. Because he doesn’t fucking know. So he concentrates on the steady pace of his soles hitting the pavement. The further he gets from the house, the more he’s slowing until he’s walking at normal speed.

Clenching and unclenching his hands, he tries to calm his racing, aching heart. He smooths his hand over his chest.

“Wanna talk to you,” He mutters to himself in a high pitched voice, “tell me, how _are_ you?”

His feet stumble over nothing, when he takes a left turn. “Lemme _tell_ you how I am.” He says gloomily, “I’m doing just _great_ .” He pulls at his hair in frustration, “I’m fucking _fine_.” He kicks the air.

Louis blinks against the cloudy sky, it looks like it’s going to rain in no time, no sign of the earlier sun.

As he takes in his surroundings, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he realises he has no idea where he is, which comes as no surprise whatsoever.

Doesn’t matter, _nothing_ does, is the thing.

He watches a child play with two dolls at the doorstep of a house. His heart softens at that and he swallows, anger fading as a short-winded puff leaves his parted lips.

He lingers at the spot for another moment, watching the girl with curly, ginger hair lifting the dolls in the air, making airplane noises. Their eyes meet and the girl waves at him. He waggles his fingers back at her, making the child smile cutely in return.

Then he’s walking further down the pavement, and as Louis comes to a field, he doesn’t stop, instead taking in the neverending green, while he trusts his feet to find the path. Louis is all alone out here, the only company are the trees in the distance, and fields to his left and right. He slips out of his shoes, enjoying his bare feet on the grass.

He dips the tip of his toes in the earth and closes his lids.

Inhale…

Exhale...

Louis can hear his heart pound in his ears along with the sound of the rushing of his blood. Without another thought he flops down on his bum first, then he lays back, crossing his arms behind his head. Stretching out his legs, he wonders why he hasn’t had the idea before. It’s really nice, just relaxing underneath the open sky. He wonders how long he can hide out here, when he’s got to go back.

While his mood lightens, the sky darkens.

When the first drop lands on his cheek and the wind makes the tree crowns bow with the force of it, Louis welcomes the cold more than he dislikes it. Wiggling his toes in the air, he has no interest in moving more than that, so he doesn’t. He still lies on the grass, when drop after drop wets his face, his body, his hair. It feels like a cleansing.

It won’t fix his problems though, they will still be there whenever he goes back to Lottie’s.

The thing is, being here in general won’t fix any of it.

It won’t fix him.

Breathing in the crisp air, he wishes he had his phone with him so he could listen to some music, something dark and depressing. He’d made sure to download some good stuff for the time here, just in case. You never know when it’ll come in handy. He also wishes he’d had a jacket on him, the breeze licking at his skin, making him shudder and grind his teeth together, so they won't start clattering.

“Travis, no!” Someone shouts, startling Louis out of his thoughts. He rubs his hands over his closed eyes trying to get the rain out of them. Before Louis can have a look around at who the hell is shouting in the middle of nowhere, a dark wet nose is pressed to his cheek, making him squeal in surprise.

A pink tongue licks over his whole face and he shields from it with his hands, groaning a giggle.

“What the fuck?” He questions at the sniffle in his ear, tickling it as the dog breathes out excitedly. He shoves it away from his face but keeps his fingers in the sandy fur. It’s a big dog, and if Louis were to stand, he’s sure it would reach his mid-thigh.  

Two friendly brown eyes look into his, as the dog sits back on its bum, tail swinging behind it on the dirt. It leans into the touch of Louis’ hand and he smiles at it.

It’s adorable.

“I’m sorry.” Gasps a voice behind Louis, out of breath. “He’s just…he saw you…and, yeah.”

“It’s all good.” Louis says, smiling up to its owner and freezing when he sees who it is.

“Louis?” Harry blinks at him, hair hidden beneath a green beanie. He’s still wheezing, hands on his flanks, fingers curling into the black coat he’s wearing. Raindrops are running down his face, making it glow. “What are you doing out here? It’s pouring down.”

Yeah, no shit.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Louis says, deadpan. Harry rolls his eyes, but his expression stays friendly, taking in Louis' soaked form. Yeah, well, Louis feels like a drowned rat, wet from head to toe and there is a possibility he’ll freeze his balls off in this weather. But. Whatever. “Besides, you guys are too.” He says, shrugging a single shoulder. Bringing his attention back to Travis, he pats his head.

“Yeah well, Travis loves the rain.”

“Me too,” Louis says softly, cooing at Travis, who licks his hand in return, getting drool all over it. Louis wrinkles his nose at it and rubs it off on his jeans. They are ruined anyway.

Turning his gaze back to Harry, he must be dreaming because there is a genuine smile and with it, pops out a dimple. Louis stares at it, wondering if he’s actually asleep back at Lottie’s house.

Blue meets green and Harry’s smile falters.

“Are you lost again?” He asks, petting Travis himself. Harry crouches down, pressing his face in Travis’ damp fur.

“No,” Louis purses his lips. He’s pretty sure he’s not lost this time around at least. “I wanted to get out of the house for a bit.” As Harry just looks at him, staring intensely, Louis speaks up again, “whose dog is this?”

“Oh,” Harry looks at Travis, “my neighbours’, they had stuff to do. I walk him sometimes.”

“S’nice of you,” Louis says, honestly. He surprises himself with the softness of his voice. He lets his eyes fall down, fiddling with his hands in his lap.  

“Yeah, it’s whatever.” Harry clicks his tongue, standing upright, “Want us to walk you home?”

“I’m no damsel in distress.” Louis get up to his feet though, looking for his shoes.

At the movement of them, Travis taps his paws impatiently, thinking they will continue their walk.

Louis makes a face holding up his shoes, they are as soaked as he is. No way he’s putting his feet anywhere near them, and he frowns at the water pooling inside.

“Brilliant idea,” Harry says, deadpan. He gives the shoes a blank look, raising his brows as he glances at Louis. “Nice weather for that.”

“I know, you should try it sometime.” Louis muses darkly.

“Nah, I'm good.” Harry grins, as Louis sends him a brief glance, chuckling quietly.

“Anyway,” Louis clears his throat, awkwardly. “I’d better be on my way. Don’t fancy getting a cold, I’m sure Lottie is wondering where I’m at.” Which is true, but not Louis’ biggest concern.

Harry shrugs, putting Travis back on the leash. “You sure you can find your way through town?” Harry asks, smirking. “History shows you can’t.”

“I’m very sure I can find my way back.” Louis waits a beat, and when he realises Harry isn’t going to say anything to that, he turns and walks the path he came from, without a goodbye.

His toes sink into the mud and he wrinkles his nose at the feeling. Yeah, it really was a brilliant idea. He lets his shoes dangle from the tips of his fingers, ignoring their presence pointedly.

What he can’t ignore are the steps that follow him, his ears tingling as Harry says something to the dog, Louis can’t make out more than the slow drawl of his voice in the wind. But it’s there and it irritates the shit out of Louis. Can’t Harry just fuck off?

Inhaling and puffing out his chest, he paces down the field, dirt sticking between his toes.

“Why are you stalking me?” Louis spins around, pinning Harry with a fierce glare.

Harry, somehow caught off guard, stops in his tracks, hand hovering in the air, like he wanted to reach out and pet Travis.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Uh…I’m not stalking you?” Harry glances at him wide-eyed, like an confused owl, the perfect picture of innocence.

“Yes, you are. Stop it.” Louis snarls, crossing his trembling arms. It’s bloody freezing.

Harry’s expression changes, like someone switched the lights off, and the confusion turns to a blank, unimpressed mask. He lifts a brow, chin nodding beyond Louis' shoulder, “We are walking in the same direction, what am I supposed to do?”

Oops, yeah, that sounds logical, doesn’t it?

However, Louis knows he already looks like an idiot. He won’t back away now and admit he’s being childish. His bottom lip juts outward, stubbornly. “Sure,” Louis snorts, then bobs his head from side to side. “Can’t you just wait a tad until I’m gone?” He asks, shivering when the wind picks up. A leaf gets caught in the fabric of Harry’s beanie, not that Louis notices. Obviously.

Harry makes a grimace, like he wants to laugh but frown at the same time. “You cannot be serious.” He says. “It’s raining.”

“I am very serious, and you’re wearing a coat.”

Harry rolls his shoulders back and holds his head higher. “Why don’t you wait if it’s bothering you this much?”

“Because I’m not wearing a jacket nor shoes. I’d die out here.” Louis says matter-of-factly, giving Harry’s beanie that shields his ears from the wind another dirty look.

Harry stares at him for two felt heartbeats, then…he just…shoulders past Louis, leaving Louis gasping after him. Travis trots by his side, sending him a curious, friendly gaze, tongue hanging out and all, like he’s having the best time out in the pouring rain.

That’s all just fine. Louis can wait. He won’t be walking with Harry. Nope.

Thunder startles him and being out on a field, surrounded by nothing but tall trees is a tad unsettling, so before he can catch up with what he’s doing, he’s jogging after Harry.

“Wait!” Louis calls out over the angry roar of the sky. “Harry, goddamn—” Louis trips, stumbles and balances himself, sinking deeper into the ground. He spares it no mind, gaze fixed on Harry’s shoulder blades. “Harry, wait!”

Harry doesn’t wait, he keeps walking, speeding up his steps. If it’s because he can hear Louis following him or the storm, Louis probably will never know. He chooses to believe it’s the storm.

Finally, he reaches Harry, panting and with a racing heart. Harry flinches when Louis holds onto his arm to get him to slow the fuck down. Bloody giraffe legs. “Fuck, you’re fast.” Louis wheezes.

If Harry is surprised that Louis changed his mind, he doesn’t let it shine through. He keeps his pace, hands shoved in his pockets, leash looped around his forearm. Travis barks happily at the thunder above their heads, they duck in unison at the loud crackle.

“I’m sorry.” Louis says, “I didn’t mean to…” He trails off. Louis isn’t sure what he is sorry for, just has the odd urge to say the words out loud, a nagging feeling in his stomach hints that he somehow screwed the nice little chat they had up and all the friendly feelings that built between them are gone, because he is in a dark mood and snaps too easily for his own good.

Harry shrugs, staying mute.

Alright then.

They walk in silence for a few metres, until Louis can’t stand it anymore. He turns his head to Harry once more. He opens and shuts his mouth. “I don’t wanna go home.” Is what comes out eventually and whatever Louis had in mind to say, that wasn’t it.

“Why?” Harry lifts a brow, “because you can't take drugs at her house?”

Louis stiffens, faltering in his steps. “Wow, says the _drug dealer_. Didn't expect any better from you.” Louis swallows, oddly hurt. “It's no surprise you don't understand.”

“What _is_ there to understand, eh?” Harry muses. “How _bad_ can your life be? You got too much money?” He snorts.

The words burn, hit hard and Louis' stomach twists at the reminder that he's probably more broke than Harry.

“Go to hell, Harry.” Louis snaps.

“Only if you join me.” Harry smirks, like it's all a big joke to him, which might be, most likely.

“I'll pass, thanks.”

Harry sighs. “Do you...like…wanna talk about it?” Harry asks, expression relaxing a tad and his green eyes too sincere. “You're out in this weather to avoid home?”

Yeah, no. What was Louis thinking, voicing anything that runs through his mind to Harry?

“Of course I wanna talk about it.” Louis nods a single time, irritation prickling in his neck by the change of mood. Harry lifts his brows. “Let’s have a heart-to-heart chat, us two. Sounds just as brilliant as being barefoot.”

Harry rolls his eyes like he actually expected Louis to open up after he insulted him and stares straight ahead. “Can you be anything else but sarcastic?”

“I can try.” Louis deadpans. “It’ll take up all my energy though, you gotta carry me then.”

Setting his jaw, Harry looks at him. “You’re shivering.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed.” Louis remarks.

“Please, shut up Louis.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Harry inhales deeply widening his eyes with it. “Take my coat, then.” He says with a firm voice.

“Uh…w-what?” Louis blinks, caught off guard and gawking with mild lifted brows, Harry peeling himself out of the sleeves.“No, no way, Harry I’m not gonna take your coat! What the fuck?”

“Yes, you are.” Harry says, holding it toward Louis with a scowling look. “Like you said, you’ll get sick otherwise.”

“Why…”

“We can't go on like this.” He says, huffing. “I really am trying to be friendly right now, so just take the bloody jacket.”

“Thank you.” Louis says, still dumbfounded by the unexpected, _kind_ offer.

“You’re welcome.” Harry nods, pulling the collar of his black jumper up his neck, like that’s going to help against the biting wind. He tugs his beanie further down his forehead then starts walking again, not waiting for Louis to slip into the coat. Which, why would he in the first place?

Louis wraps himself in the fabric, enjoying the pleasurable warmth. It’s too large for his body, making him feel ridiculously tiny. Well, Harry is a giant, Louis has to tilt his head back a tad to make proper eye-contact. The smell that’s excessively clinging to the collar is indeed Harry. It’s already too familiar for Louis' liking, as he sniffs it, trying to be subtle while doing so.

His breath hitches in his throat, his mind caught up with the things he’s doing. He lets his hands fall to his sides, then shakes himself out of the shock-confused state he’s in and jogs after Harry.

He reaches him just when the street starts. Louis sighs at the feeling of solid ground under his feet.

“Why do midgets laugh when they run over grass?” Harry asks, when Louis falls in step with him.

“Uh —”

“Because the grass tickles their balls.” Harry cackles, eyes sparkling at Louis mischievously. “Now, how does it feel to get your balls tickled? Since you're the size of a midget, you can tell me, eh?”

“Damn.” Louis says, mouth flapped open for a moment. He shakes his head, chuckling slightly. “I don't know what you’re trying to do here, but if you’re trying to offend me, you’ve failed miserably. I feel sorry for your poor excuse of a joke though.”

“Yeah, yeah, clearly. You're not offended because it's true.” Harry snickers.

“Gimme a break, I’m big.” Louis huffs.

Harry rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Sure.” He drawls, “Whatever you say, _big_ guy.”

“And what about you then?” Louis asks, lifting his brows. “You're the town boy for just everything, hmm?”

Harry frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let's see.” Louis starts, “You’re the guy to call for dog duty.” He counts on his fingers. “You’re the city guide, driving strangers around in your mysterious bread van.” Harry lets out a surprised chuckle, eyes lighting up. It unties a knot in Louis' guts, so he continues, “You’re the one to go to if someone needs a place to party.” Louis snorts when Harry doesn’t disagree, “You're the local dealer,” Harry's laughter sobers at that. “What else do you do Harold? Help out in the town’s bakery on Saturday?” Louis grins at him, but it drops quickly when he notices Harry's face wiped free of any sort of smile, instead there is a hardened edge to his features. Harry draws his shoulders to his ears to protect him from the cold, scrunching his nose, he keeps his gaze forward.

Louis swallows. What did he do now? He takes in Harry's inscrutable expression. He tugs on his beanie, holding onto the leash like Travis is the one leading him. Another lightening bolt stretches across the dark sky and Louis gulps, ducking his head as a crack of thunder follows.

When the modern abode of his sister comes into view, Louis' heart skips a beat for a whole other reason. He’s not ready to go in _there_.

“Did I offend you?” He asks, shoving his hands in the soft pockets of Harry’s coat. His fingers nudge a hole and he pokes his index through, wiggling until he feels fluffy cotton.

Harry purses his lips to the side. “Nope.”  He says, popping the p and not looking Louis' way.

Now, Louis is _fully_ convinced, of course. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, he bites his lip instead. “What is it then?”

One moment they are summat like good, the next moment they are anything but. Louis knows he is always somehow stepping on Harry’s toes, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. That…kind of, never happened before and it bothers Louis, he doesn’t like making enemies with people who are friends with his conceivable friends. They’ll run into each other unquestionably more times than they’re comfortable with and they’ll be forced to spend time together. Louis doesn’t have the energy to fight nor the nerve to get involved in petty bickering every time they hang-out.

In favour of answering Louis, Harry pats Travis flanks.

“Harry.”

“Louis.”

“C’mon. Are…are we okay?” Louis wrinkles his nose at his awkward tone.

Harry scoffs, holding the leash tight, knuckles turning white. “We aren’t anything, _Lewis_. We aren’t friends.”

Right. Yeah. Of course. Understandable.

“Trust me, I never considered you a _friend_.” Louis counters before he can stop himself.

Harry arches a single brow at him, dark lashes swooping cynically.

Louis really wants to get away from him, the unsettling knot in his gut blooming once again the longer Harry looks at him cooly. Thankfully, they are at the house, standing on the pavement. Louis hadn’t noticed they stopped walking.

“Nice meeting you, Travis.” Louis says, patting Travis’ head, paying no attention to Harry's snort at his words. He also ignores the green eyes he senses flaming on him. “Bye.” He says clipped, lifting his shoulders defensively and turns, climbing the stairs.

With bottled-up air that sits heavy on his chest, he pauses, listening to Harry’s gulp of air. He's going to say something…anything, Louis is certain. Then, Harry exhales all at once. Louis picks up Harry’s muttered words to Travis, yet, when Louis checks over his shoulder, Harry and Travis are gone.

Unreasonable disappointment needles on Louis' heart.

He stands on the doorstep, letting the rain continue to pour down on him and stares at the spot where Harry had stood.

Disappointment is replaced by dread as Louis faces forward to unlock the door, but his pockets are empty of any metallic keys.

Realisation dawns on him that he's not wearing his jacket but Harry's black coat.

  


*   *   *

 

He just finished his second shower of the day, finally able to feel his toes again, when he hears Lottie calling out to him.

“Louis, please come in the living room for a sec.”

Stopping in his tracks, feet glued to the floor in the corridor, he glances longingly at his bedroom, the door invitingly wide open.

“Just a sec!” He calls back, making his way to the room and leaning against the closed door after he’s swung it shut. Inhalation; exhalation, Louis stares blankly at the ground.

Louis takes his time to put on fresh clothes, hands gripping the material a tad too tightly as he dresses himself in undies, low-hanging sweats and a white, soft jumper.

Walking down the stairs on his tiptoes, Louis hears Tommy and Lottie speaking softly with each other and he wonders if this is a set up. Pictures of him being tied to a chair and a blinding light directed in his eyes while they play good cop and bad cop asking question after question, making him talk, swirl in his mind until he steps into the low lighted living room.

The telly is on, showing the news, the voices just a quiet background noise.

Tommy and Lottie look up in unison as they hear him approaching, both of their hands holding mugs, and there is another one standing on the coffee table, waiting for him. Lottie gives it a little nudge with her fingers, and as Louis sinks next to Lottie on the sofa, he takes it and places it in the hole between his legs formed since he’s sitting cross-legged.

Tommy switches off the telly and Louis wishes he hadn’t, the silence pressing against his ears more than any noise ever could. It’s not only that - having two worried pairs of eyes on him isn't helping to simmer down his nerves.

They mean only good, he reminds himself, they want the best for you.

“So,” Louis is the first one to speak, drawing the word out, just like the breath he’s exhaling with it.

“So,” Lottie echoes back, facing him fully.

“What’s up?” he pops the p, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

Tommy clears his throat, “Maybe…I should leave? Give you guys some sibling one-on-one-time?” He’s questioning Lottie, but Louis is the one to answer:

“Stay.” He’s not sure if he could handle another show of Lottie, seriously.

Tommy rubs his chin, but says no more and gets comfortable where he’s seated next to Lottie, who watches Louis like a hawk, as if he would bolt in a second. She has the right to do so, he can feel his whole body itch to get away from the situation, but he knows they will repeat the scenario over and over until they get out whatever they want to talk about.

At least they won’t tie him to a chair, Louis muses gloomily, swallowing another gulp of sweet chocolate. He pulls a face, as it burns his tongue.

“It’s been three days.” Louis exclaims as Lottie just looks at him calmly. “Gimme a bit more time, will ya?”

Lottie snorts, shaking her head. Taking a sip of her own chocolate and placing it on the coffee table after, she mimics Louis, sitting cross-legged and facing him. “Yeah, and we’ve barely held any sort of conversation.”

“Talk, then.” He would fold his arms over his chest, but he’s still got the mug in his hands, so he grips it tighter, the warmth of it making his fingers damp with sweat.

“Alright, see,” Lottie starts, flicking her blonde hair over the shoulder. “Mum and Dad —”

“I don’t want to talk about them.”

Lottie talks right over him. “Mum and Dad.” She starts again, an imperious look in her eyes that reminds him so much of their own mother that he has to lower his eyes for a second. “Said you should find peace here.”

“Sounds like I’m about to die.” Louis interrupts her, making her swat his thigh. He scowls.

“No, silly,” She chirps, “they just want you to stay away from the party scene for a bit.”

“Nothing new?” He lifts his brows, placing his mug next to Lottie’s on the table so he can cross his arms this time.

“Yeah, but maybe…Tommy and I....”

“That’s all on you, Lots,” Tommy cuts her off, looking at Louis with something like exasperation in his eyes. “I’ve nothing to do with this.”

Lottie slaps blindly at him, eyes lingering on Louis.

She clears her throat. “Like I said, we’ve been thinking, yeah? We work a lot, we’re not always home…so,” Oh no, this cannot be good, “I thought it would be a good idea...” No, no, no. “For you to get a part-time job as well.”

Louis can do nothing but blink at her in incredulousness, because... _what?_

“Why?” He asks with an embarrassingly high voice.

“So you’ve got something to do while we’re at work.”

Louis snorts at that, “I don’t need to be kept busy.” He declines.

“What about a class then? Maybe we can find something fun in Manchester? A little diversion?” Tommy says from around Lottie, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her closer so he can hook his chin on her shoulder.

They should not look as cute in this moment as they do.

“A class? Like what?” Mum and Dad had a say in this, this is their doing, his mind chimes in. “Like a business class?” He narrows his eyes in suspicion.

Lottie shakes her head, saying, “No, no. Something…more fun.” Tapping her pursed lips in thought, she adds, “maybe a yoga class?”

Louis can’t help the laugh escaping, “Yoga? Me?” He asks with contemptuous lifted brows, “No, _nope_. No way in hell.”

“Footie?”

At Tommy’s questions, Louis mild smile turns to a tense, straight line, “No.” He has no more to say than that. Lottie knows why, as Tommy should, too. _Whatever_. He hasn’t played footie since he graduated college.

“Alright, sorry.” Tommy says, apologetically.

“Badminton?” Lottie suggests.

“Ping-Pong!” Tommy grins.

“A Book-club!” Lottie shoots back and the married couple entertain themselves a little more about what Louis could feasibly do, bickering back and forth options Louis would never ever be interested in. It seems like a competition now, and Louis watches in delight as Lottie sticks out her tongue at her husband but when he mimics her, licking her cheek, Louis puts a stop to it.

“Eh, I could just look it up.” He pipes up, making both of their heads turn in his direction, seemingly having forgotten about Louis’ presence thanks to the game they’ve been playing, though he’s been the main topic. “The Internet has all the answers.” He waggles his fingers at them, demonstrating magic or some crap.

Lottie nods, blinking rapidly, “That works…too.”

“Obviously,” Louis rolls his eyes, “Gonna have a look at it later.”

As they both just watch him quietly, he makes a face, eyes flickering from the blue eyes of his sister to Tommy’s blue ones. “What?” He asks, annoyed now, “Is there _anything_ else?” Louis grits his teeth together, jaw twitching.

“Well, d’you wanna talk about anything else?” Lottie smiles innocently.

And - that's his clue to get the bloody hell back to the safety of his room. Thanks.

“Nah, I’m— I’m good.” He says, uncrossing his legs and gliding off the sofa. “Thanks though.” He holds his thumbs up in their direction, running for his life before Lottie changes her mind and makes him talk. The whole good cop, bad cop thing comes to him, while he jogs up the stairs, shaking his head to get rid of the image.

“Supper is in an hour!” Lottie calls after him, just as he shuts the door to his safe haven behind him.

  


*   *   *

  


Two days later, Louis is staring at the black coat that's innocently hung over his desk chair, not so innocently mocking him. He narrows his eyes at it, can hear its laugh ringing in his ears.

It's driving him nuts.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Keeping it is out of question, it’s from a high-end brand and besides, it belongs to Harry. Probably bought with drug money. Not something he wants in this house.

Louis also doesn’t know how to give it back to its owner. It'd be so awkward, he reckons. ‘ _Yeah, here, see that's your coat you gave me because I was freezing, I sniffed at it so many times that I lost count, well, anyway, it's a nice fabric, though, thanks mate, cheers._ ’ Even if he wouldn't say those exact words aloud - which, c’mon he wouldn't -  it'd be written all over his face and he doesn't want to look into those jade green eyes and see the smug smirk on Harry's face when he realises -

Nothing. There is nothing for him to realise.

Whatever.

There has to be a spell on the jacket, some evil curse that confuses Louis' mind.

The much more preferable version is letting Lara take care of it, or Niall. That'd work just perfectly for him. Louis could just pop by the Diner and hand it to the Irishman, he’s sure both of them will experience the pleasure of seeing the curly haired boy before him anyway.

Crossing and uncrossing his ankles, he taps his finger nervously on the edge of the bed he’s been sitting on for a full hour, at least.

If he stares at it a bit more, maybe it will burst into flames by the force of his glare. He just has to pull a story out of his arse the next time he runs into Harry. He could tell him the non-existing dog puked on it and Lottie brought it to the dry-cleaner; it disappeared in the wash when Louis made an attempt to clean it himself; it flew out of the window when Louis had left it open whilst eating lunch downstairs; also, he could play dumb - a coat? He can't recall wearing a jacket, he was barefoot even, why would he wear a coat but no bloody shoes? Now that's just senseless.

However the longer it stays in this goddamn room, the longer Louis will think about Harry. That’s something he absolutely has no desire to do, so he must to get rid of it, sooner rather than later.

His lip makes a wet sound when he pulls at it, digging his nail into the rosy flesh on the inside. Letting it snap back, he gets up from the bed. His hand hovers over the coat, fingers twitching in the air waiting for his brain to make up its own goddamn mind. Maybe it'll burn him if he touches it, maybe it'll laugh again. Bloody fucking coat. Fucking Harry and his green-

“What are you doing?” A voice says from the doorway, startling him as he had assumed he was alone at home, Lottie out with a friend for lunch and Tommy - who knows where he is.

What Louis didn’t expect is Lara.

“Did you break into the house?” Louis asks, rotating to the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout the window.” Lara makes a face, before breaking out in a bright, wide smile that almost swallows her entire petite face.

Louis' eyes lower in suspicion, “I swear…”

“Chill, you lot left the backdoor open. Tsts, careless.”

Right.

“What’re you doing here?” Louis plops down on the mattress, looking up at her. He pats the spot next to him and scoots backwards, leaning against the cool wall.

Lara sits beside him, position the same as his and claps him on the thigh, just an inch beyond his kneecap. “Brought a gift.”

“It's not my Birthday or Christmas - which, for your information, is just a single day apart.” He declares with a crooked unimpressed eyebrow. However, his expression changes and his jaw goes slack as she wordlessly opens her palm, revealing an angelic pack of glittering snow.

“Fuck me…” He breathes, touching it with the tips of his fingers, making sure it’s real, which turns out to be indeed, very much real. “Why...what…” His mouth forms a little moving o but no more sound escapes his stretched lips.

“’S my day off,” Lara shrugs, grinning, “thought you’d appreciate it.”

“What the fuck.” He can’t help but say. He rubs his stomach. “This totally feels like Christmas slash my birthday now!”

Lara laughs and he joins in, trembling shoulders relaxing and mood noticeably lifting.

Louis leans over, and steadying himself on his elbow, he closes the door with two fingers. Stretching a little bit more, he gets a grip on the key, rotating it until he hears the click.

Locked. Bang. Done. Party starts about _now_.

Going back to sit in his previous position he rubs his hands in glee. Louis’ spent the past days in a haze of being depressed, thinking way too much for his liking and staring at the wall, back turned towards the room. So yeah, he’s more than jolly to finally get what he’d been craving.

“Hold on.” Lara lifts a finger. He pouts, watching her getting a tenner out of her wallet. “Desk?“ She asks, nodding towards it.

Louis stands back, letting Lara draw two lines of coke on the cleaned surface. He’s mentally drooling at the sight and his fingers twitch at his flanks. He crosses his arms, hands slipping under his armpits to get them to behave and stop being so bloody greedy and impatient.

After Lara sniffed the two lines, it’s Louis turn and he draws it up his nose, feeling it dry out the inside of his nostrils immediately. Shaking his head like a dog, he stands upright, feeling it shoot up to his brain as the temperature of his body slowly starts to boil.

“Damn.” He chuckles, blinking wide-eyed.

Oh sweet Jesus, how Louis had missed this feeling. Heart hammering in his chest, his skin shining with pearls of sweat, Louis knows his pupils are blown without checking a mirror for confirmation.

There is so much energy in his bones that he’s been lacking over the past few days. All his senses and muscles come back to life.

Lara laughs in delight, feeling just as giddy as Louis does. She grabs his hands in excitement. Louis doesn’t know why or what’s going on, but at the same time he doesn’t care. His face is split by the biggest smile. He loves that about coke the most - the feeling of utter happiness, he craves to hug the bloody world.

“Music.” She exhales, breath hitting Louis' cheek, making it tingle. “We need music.” She gushes.

Louis continues blinking at her, trying to get used to the rush, however, music sounds like the perfect idea right now.

“’Ve a look at it,” He says, nodding towards his laptop, sitting proudly on the desk.

While Lara’s fingers slide over the mouse pad, bringing the screen to life, Louis looks out of the window, noticing the still beautiful absence of Lottie’s car in the driveway and Tommy’s not having returned either. It makes him grin smugly and as he turns around to Lara, he sees her looking at a website, not his iTunes library, eyes darting all over the display.

“What’s this?” She asks over her shoulder, before gazing back at it. Brows furrowed.

“Oh!” Louis exclaims, not even annoyed by Lara’s curiosity. He feels like talking, so he does. “Y’know Lots said I should take a class or summat.” He shrugs, grinning easily, “Said I should do Yoga.” He lets out a laugh, “Like can ya imagine me doin’ yoga?” Giggling, he covers his mouth, “Jesus, over me dead body.”

Lara giggles along with him, “Maybe, ya should pose as nude model for drawing class.”

“Yeah, yeah. Haven’t gotten my cock out in awhile.” Louis says, frowning at the administration. “This is sad.”

Perplexed laughter comes out of Lara’s mouth, like an exploding balloon. “Christ, you have no filter, huh?”

“What?” Louis grins, “Does it make you uncomfortable me talking ‘bout my cock?” He waggles with his eyebrows, finding the whole situation far too amusing.

“As long as you keep it in your pants.” Lara says, snorting after. “Please, don’t.” She says as if she can hear his thoughts. She can’t right? That’s not…possible, right? At least Louis doesn’t think so, all he knows is that he feels like getting out of the sweats he’s wearing, feeling way too hot.

“Don’t Lou.” Lara warns, but there is a smile in her voice.

He wrinkles his nose, “Nah, don’t wanna.”

“Let’s see what else there is to do.”

Louis is confused by this, until Lara nods towards the laptop. She waves him closer, so he can have a look as well.

The white of the website is blinding and he forms his eyes to slits, so he can see better. He squirms.

Together they scroll through it, snorting at some of the classes, laughing and giggling at others. Louis cannot imagine him doing any of the crap they offer, so he shakes his head with a snorted laugh, as Lara clicks on a sewing class.

“But...maybe you’re good at it?” She pouts, Louis shaking his head some more. His mind spins.

“Nuh-hu,” He exhales, blinking rapidly, “no way in hell.”

“Why you looking at it anyway?” Lara purses her pink, glossy lips.

He chuckles, cocaine making his tongue loose. “Lots’ idea…” He frowns, thinking hard, “maybe Tommy’s as well, dunno. Thought it’s like therapy or some shit.” He collapses back on the bed, stretching his humming limbs until the tips of his fingers bump into wall. Sitting upright, he puffs out, “They’re saving themselves the babysitter, y’know, with those classes.” He waves towards the list of options, not meeting Lara’s brown eyes. “Guess they wanna keep me busy, I dunno.” He shrugs, bouncing on the bed like a child and swinging his legs, wiggling his feet. They make slapping sounds when they hit the floor, he giggles at it.

“Why do you need therapy?” Lara asks, lifting her arms above her head for a stretch, satisfied, she groans. “Knew something wasn’t right with ya brain.” She meant it as a joke and he’s not as offended by it as he would normally be, if it weren’t for the coke. Still, it gives Louis’ chest an odd pang of...hurt or something. His heart flutters more than it already does.

“Don’t need therapy.” He grunts, pursing his lips. “Ya know what I really, _really_ need?”

Lara raises an eyebrow, “What?” She coaxes.

“Coke, a party, bit more coke, maybe a joint.” He talks over her amused snort, and ignores her rolling eyes. “Getting laid, _hmph_ , yeah. That's…what I need. To get laid. Yep.”

“Think I can help with that.” Lara says.

His eyes bulge out of his head, “Oh no. That’s not what I meant, you’re a lovely girl n’ all, but yeah no, thanks but no.” He rambles, holding up his hands. “No vagina near my cock.”

Lara bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Jesus,” She presses out, “you’re _hilarious_ on coke.”

Louis frowns, “You've seen me on coke before.”

“Yeahhhh,” She draws the word out, coming down from her hysterical laughter. “But this is a whole new level.” She giggles, wiping the tears out of the corners of her eyes.

As Louis just blankly looks at her, she sighs. “I meant, I can help you with getting laid, as…your wingman.” She waggles her brows. “Uni parties are always fun.”

Oh, oh right. Pffuuushh.

“Thank fuck.” Louis lets out.

“Well, my girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about it, either.” Lara says, cocking an eyebrow, it looks so perfect, Louis’ never noticed before. He stares at it until it sinks down.

“Oh…” He states dumbly, “girlfriend. That’s right.” Louis nods to himself, pleased. “Forgot about that bit for a moment.”

“Nice.”

“Sorry,” Louis makes a face. Back to topic though, “so there’s a party?” He peers at her, fingertips tapping against fingertips as he holds up both of his palms in a praying gesture.

“End of semester party.” She nods vigorously, widening her eyes for dramatics. “Everyone’s gonna be there. Biggest party of the year.”

“Perfect.” He claps his hands, smile plastered on his face. “When is it?”

Lara purses her lips, pondering it over. Then - “At the end of the semester?”

His smile drops and is replaced by a pout. “That's _so_ far away, though.”

“Yeah,” She deadpans, face expressionless. “About four weeks is a long, long time.”

“It is.”

They look at each other.

“I’m not kidding.” Louis says, voice serious, because it's a very serious topic. See, he misses parties, he misses dancing, he misses attention and, you know, _fun_. “Two and another two weeks is far too long, mate.”

“Alright, I get it.” She giggles.

“Seems like you don’t take me seriously.” His eyes narrow.

“I do, I do.” Lara waves her hand in the air, “It’s a long arse time. Understood.”

“Good.” He says curtly.

“What’re we talkin’ ‘bout again?” She questions, “I think I could do another line.”

“I feel like doing sports.”

“Is this another term for having sex?”

Louis groans out a chuckle. “No.” He throws a pillow at her, and she catches it easily, holding it against her chest. “Doing actual sports, like jogging, hmm…or, footie?” Yeah, he’s feeling like bouncing a ball around. He hasn't touched a football in the past year, he has no idea where the thought is coming from but he feels so light he decides just to go with it. Going with the flow. He's a river. He’s feels like he's flowing, his limbs nicely loose. Boneless. Like a river. A boneless river. _Anyway_.

It doesn’t take much to get Lara to agree.

Half an hour later, they’re kicking the ball back and forth in the garden. Louis had found it buried in the garage, and though it’s a bit flat, it still flies, thankfully.

It’s windy and the chill outside does Louis good, drying his sweat that stick to him like a disgusting second layer of skin. Lara doesn’t seem to mind too much either, brown hair all over the place but an ecstatic smile stretching her lips.

That’s how Tommy finds them, appearing at the backdoor, leaning against the frame. They don’t notice his presence until he speaks up, making them both jump and spin around, ball bouncing somewhere behind them.

“Look at that.” He says, grinning like he’s found a beloved lost object. “Tommo is back at it.”

Louis flips him off before kicking the ball back to Lara, who stops it with her foot. He brushes his fringe out of his eyes, an easy smile on his lips, “Felt like it.“ is all he can say, because a second later the football hits him in the chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Lara laughs in delight. Evil little thing.

“So you made your mind up?” As Louis just looks at him confusedly, he adds, “Footie is it? You two training for the tryouts?”

“Oh, no, no,” Louis chuckles quietly, widening his eyes.  “Just for fun. Nothing more. Fun. Yep.”

“Too bad,” Tommy comments, taking a cigarette from behind his ear. Lighting it and sucking at it, he says, “Maybe Lara can change your mind.”

“About what?” Lara asks, flopping down on the grass, not minding that they’ve stopped their game.

“I don’t wanna play in the footie team.” Louis says, scratching his chin.

Tommy shrugs, “‘M not gonna press.” He says.

When Louis’ brother-in-law finishes his cigarette, he disappears back indoors, leaving them alone out in the mild sun.

“Why don’t you, though?” Lara asks, getting her own pack of cigs out of her pocket, offering him one which he takes gratefully. Sitting down across from her, he leans back on one arm, fingers digging in the grass.

As their fags are lit and smokes fill their lungs, Lara’s curious gaze is still on him and it’s getting annoying. He averts his eyes to the ground, “Just don’t like the pressure of it anymore, is all.” He mutters, “Don't think they'd take me, since I'm no student anyway.”

Lara, bless her, gets the hint, shrugs and leaves it be - as Tommy should do, too.

They consume their rolls of tobacco in taciturnity after that and neither of them touches the football for the rest of the day.

Louis' good mood has dimmed, blown out like a candle in the wind.

 

  
  
*   *   *  
  
  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday, enjoy! :) x

 

*   *   *

 

 

Louis is half-asleep, carelessly spooning his cereal into his mouth. He’s already coughed twice because he forgot to chew first, and when a shadow hovers over him, he looks up briefly. Lottie sits down next to him at the kitchen table. She folds her arms, tapping her fingers on the top, a nervous expression colouring her face.

“What Lots?” He urges between two spoonfuls, wiping drops of milk from his jaw and sucking his finger into his mouth.

“Mum called.”

He lets up from his finger with a wet pop, closing his eyes for a split second. No, it’s too early for this, Louis frowns, already shaking his head. His brain can't process this.

“What does she want?” Louis asks, glowering at his soaked breakfast, the milk swaying dangerously close to the rim as he pushes the bowl away from him, appetite gone.

“Asked for you, said she couldn’t reach you on your phone.” Lottie clicks her tongue, fingers twirling her ponytail. “You should turn on your phone.”

After a moment of watching her hair swirl in a circle, he clears his throat, “It’s turned on.” As she sends him another astringent look, he shrugs, nonchalantly. “Well, it’s on airplane mode.”

Lottie snorts, getting up from her seat. She points to his half-finished bowl, “You still eating that?” He shakes his head so she takes his brekkie and places it in the sink, leaning with her bum against the counter when she's done. She curls her fingers around the edge, nails continuing the annoying, tapping rhythm.

The _tick, tick, tick,_ makes Louis anxious. He bites his tongue, holding a snappy remark curled in his chest.

Obviously he’s avoiding talking to their mum. There is no reason for them to chat anyway. To be honest, he never thought she'd be the one reaching out first. Their mum is so busy with the company and all, he was certain she’d forget that he’s not in London anymore, living under the same roof as her.

“What did you tell her?” Louis asks as the silence in the little kitchen gets the better of him. It was a pleasant morning, with the sun shining through the small window, filling the room in a soft glowing light. Now he regrets leaving his bed. He concentrates more on the dust glittering in the radiant light instead of the flutter in his tummy, as he waits for her answer.

“You’re fine, I’m fine, Tommy is too.” She waves her hand, eyes on the pictures which are pinned to the fridge. The paintings were drawn by the children who had to stay at the hospital. “I mean, you _are_ fine. Right?” Lottie says then, blue eyes boring into his.

“Oh yeah, I’m great.” Louis responds quickly, folding his arms on the table like Lottie had before. He’s not even sure if it’s a lie or not, because he’s spent the past few days in a state of basic function. He went out for a walk, this time without getting soaked to his underwear, and he slept a lot. He saw Lara one more time after her visit on Wednesday, and they watched a movie on his laptop. Nothing special about that, except the weed they shared. This is Louis’ version of fine, there is no reason for him to lower his gaze or rub below his nose. He still does all of those things, uncomfortable and itchy.

“What’re you doing tonight?” Lottie asks, picking at her nail, little pout on her lips. Louis can’t tell if she wants him to meet his friends or if she has plans for them. At least it's a change of topic, he thinks, as he gets up to his feet, just in case he has to make a run for it…again.

“Hmm…Lara invited me?” It comes out as a question, he can’t help the nervous tilt in his voice. “Apparently her…” swallowing, he reminds himself he has no reason to be afraid to mention it to his sister…but still, “her girlfriend is coming for a visit.” Louis finishes quickly, to get it all out at once.

Lottie’s brows basically jump to her hairline in surprise. So - she didn’t know, he muses. Louis leans back against the doorframe, hands folding in front of his crotch, interlocking his fingers, meeting Lottie’s gaze.

“Oh, well.” She says, releasing a sigh, “Good for her. Haven’t seen them together in a while, thought they’d broken up.”

Louis is sure he’s heard wrong. Because what? Okay, plot twist.

“You…you know about them?” He finally gets his voice to work.

“Yeah, of course. I thought it'd be good for you to hang out with her, you know…” She shrugs, looking more at the floor than Louis, he gapes openly at her. “Thought it's good to have a friend here, since you and Ni-”

Louis cuts her off with an impatient wave, can't spare a thought about whom he left behind, when his sister’s tone is careful, like she’d insulted Louis on some kind of level. Which, bollocks.

“Thank you Lottie.” Louis says softly. He can hear the fond in his own voice, wouldn’t be surprised to see a puddle on the floor with how much it’s dripping with it. Though he knew she’s on his side, supporting him and all that, he thought she’d changed her mind, he believed until now (obviously) that she tried to set him up with Lara. Finding out that that's not the case, his heart feels a bit lighter and swells with love for his sister at the same time.

"No worries?"  She looks confused, as if his outburst of affection is over the top. It’s not.

"Anyway," He’s never really been good with emotions, not his own, not anyone else’s. Crying makes him uncomfortable and…yeah well, it’s just awkward, innit? He never knows what to do with his hands, does he pat their backs? Do they need a hug? Water? Time alone? He never knows. It's the same with him, he doesn’t like crying in front of anyone.

At least today he isn't confronted with sad emotions, so.

Whatever — moving on.

Louis gathers himself. “What're you doing today?” Louis knows Tommy is at work and he won’t come home until later. Louis will be gone around five in the afternoon, so there is a lot of time to kill.

Lottie shrugs, “Nothing much, thought I might watch a movie or whatever.”

Louis smiles, waggling his eyebrows.

Ten minutes later, they are huddled together on the sofa, cups of tea placed on the coffee table and the opening credits of some rom-com playing on screen. They got snacks too, Louis is currently munching on some crisps, the sound loud in his ears, when he grinds his jaw to chew. The movie sounded alright when Lottie read the summary to him, a tad cheesy if he’s being honest, but Lottie said she loved it, so whatever.

After the movie is finished, they watch another…and another, both mindlessly chatting while the characters fight for their love. It’s nice. Lottie and him haven't done something like this in so long. You can bet your arse, he’s enjoying it, too.

 

*   *   * 

 

Louis is proud of himself. See, after the movie marathon with Lottie, he showered, got dressed and _now_ he’s walking to the house — all by his own.

It’s the right way this time and though the sun hides behind grey clouds, his mood is shining bright enough.  

He isn’t as nervous as he once was when it came to the friends, and although he knows Harry will be there, Louis is trying not to think too much of it. If it comes to the worst, he’ll just ignore him.

Louis walks past the Diner, waving through the window at Niall, who has to work a nightshift and won’t make it until later. But the blonde waves enthusiastically before returning to his customers, an easy smile on his lips as he writes down on his little notepad.

With a skip in his steps he jaywalks over the crossroad, a car honking at him, which — rude.

Not minding that some guy is yelling nonsense at him through the car window, he reaches the pavement.

It doesn’t take long from there until he sees the old house. He’s never noticed how shabby it looks from the outside. On the roof, there are a few tiles missing and the facade needs a touch-up, the once white colour fading into a light grey from weather and rain. The curtains are drawn shut, so he can’t get a glimpse of what is waiting for him indoors. However, he’s got an idea when he sees Harry’s old bread van parked in the driveway, behind it a car Louis recognises from his neighbours house -  at least he knows Lara is already there.

His fingers twitch, hovering over the door-bell. Instead of pressing the button, Louis changes his mind and knocks. His ears perk when heavy steps walk toward the door, then it’s opened and he’s face to face with Harry.

“Hello Louis.” Harry says in a low voice, his lip twitches like it doesn't know which direction to turn, up or down. Maybe it’s just the tension between them that’s gonna break out in no time. Harry’s hand is still on the doorknob, as if he wants to close the door again. His green eyes flicker over Louis' face. Maybe Harry feels bad about the way they parted last week. That would be weird though, so Louis pushes the thought aside - since he was the rude one, not that he'll ever admit that out loud - and takes a couple of seconds to take Harry in. His curls are held back by a red-white patterned bandana, and Louis recognises the black, ridiculously oversized jumper from yesterday. Now that there is no rain blurring his vision, he notices how young it makes Harry look. Not for the first time, Louis wonders how old Harry actually is.

The neckline of said jumper is hanging low, giving a good view of sharp collarbones. Louis tries not to stare at the ink printed on his skin, it looks like two beaks, left and right. Louis shouldn’t be endeared by the thought of Harry getting two birds permanently tattooed on his skin. He also shouldn’t be staring at them and trying to figure out what kind of birds they are. But here he is, eyes fixed on the ink and milky skin. Louis' fingers twitch, he craves to touch, though he knows he can’t and it won’t ever be his place to do so.

“Harry.” Louis says, shaking himself from his train of thoughts. He sounds breathless and hopes he’s the only one who notices. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry ruffles through his curls, tugging his bandana in place, “the others are already here.” Louis had figured as much, but he doesn’t comment on it, relieved Harry hadn’t picked up on the way Louis' eyes took him in seconds ago.

Harry waves him inside, closing the door. They are standing so close that he’s able feel Harry's breath on his neck. He swallows noisily, suppressing a shiver.

He trails behind Harry, eyes fixed on his shoulder blades, watching his muscles work. So yeah, he’s not seeing anything else until they are in the living room and Harry flops down on the sofa next to Lara, who’s curled to a little ball.

Louis has no time to say hello, because there is not only Lara and Liam but also-

“Zayn?” Louis rubs his eyes, because they must play tricks on him, maybe they are broken from all the coke he’s done, although Louis is sure that’s not how it works. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, the painkillers he’s thrown in after his shower.

The other boy is in no better state, hazel eyes widening in shock.

"Louis?" And yes it is indeed Zayn’s low voice, just like Louis remembers. Also the worn leather jacket is the same, as are his black boots and the tattoos stretching down the lengths of his arms and hands.

"Zayn?" He repeats flabbergasted, because what the fuck? What the _fuck_?

After the shock has worn off, the situation changes dramatically. With four large steps, Zayn is on his throat, literally. Louis, caught off guard, stumbles backwards, head hitting the wall next to the door with a hard bang. His mind goes dizzy and his vision blurs, for a second he's only able to see white dots. He ignores the pain that shoots through his body. Fear trickles down his spine as he tries to swallow.

The usually warm eyes are now slits and Louis feels cold sweat breaking out of his pores.

Zayn pokes his index finger sharply into Louis' chest, the hot air that leaves his parted lips blows right in Louis' face and he has to repress a shudder.

"You little rat." He snarls, the corner of his mouth curling in disgust.  

Louis’ own breath is shaky, the waves of anxiety mixed with the pounding in his temples make it hard to think. All he knows is that he doesn’t know what to do.

"What? You guys know each other?" Liam says from somewhere. Louis can’t spare him a single glance, too scared to look away from Zayn for even a second.

"Listen mate." Louis starts when he finds his voice, heart galloping in his chest. It was a mistake to speak up, Zayn is having none of it, balling his hand to a fist in anger. Louis can see the vein on his neck standing out, which is already intimidating on its own.

"No, you listen, _mate_ , I fucking trusted you." Zayn grits through his teeth, spit sprinkling on Louis' cheek. "I trusted you and you never showed up again."

Louis' heart drops, so do his shoulders.

"What happened?" Liam pipes up a second time, "Zayn, what did he do?"

Taking sides now, huh? Everyone against the new kid — classic.

Liam pulls Zayn by the shoulder, putting some distance between them. Louis holds back a relieved sigh, knowing full well this isn’t over yet.

Taking his eyes slowly off Louis, like he could bolt at any given moment, Zayn glares at Liam. “The arsehole fucked off with my cocaine.”

Louis' mouths runs sandpaper-dry.

"I thought Nick would cover for me when I didn’t show anymore.” Louis rasps. It’s a weak fucking excuse, but it’s the truth.

 _Half_ -truth, he reminds himself.

"Well, he _didn’t_ , said you’d be back in a mo, so I waited. He fucked off."

Of course, Louis should have known that, Nick’s just as much of a chicken as Louis is.

"D-did he?" He stutters, voice going high at the end. His knees are like jelly, he’s sure if he takes one step from the wall, he’d fall right over.

Zayn snorts, "I thought you were my friend."

"I am, Zaynie, c’mon."

"Shut up." Zayn barks with an ice cold voice, goosebumps spreading on Louis' arms at that.

Back then, he didn’t even think about the consequences, thought he’d be safe in Macclesfield.

Well, look how that turned out, he thinks gloomily. Tiny world, eh?

“Hold the fuck up.” Harry chimes in suddenly. Louis blinks at him, having forgotten for a moment the boy is in the room. “That’s the guy, you…you?” Harry groans, not finishing his sentence.

While it leaves Louis confused, Zayn seems to know what Harry is talking about. Louis wastes no time in figuring it out though, it’s more important to smooth the situation at hand, before it explodes right in his face and leaves him with a stabbing wound or something equally painful.

Gathering all the strength he has left in his bones, Louis steps forward. Coughing, he clears his throat. The thing is, Louis has no fucking idea what to say, there are no right words, sweet-talk won’t get him _anywhere_. So he chooses to speak the full truth.

"Look." He starts, eyes cutting from Harry to Zayn, ignoring the annoyed huff Harry makes in favour of concentrating on Zayn only. "I wanted to get money out of the ATM, found out that my bank account was frozen-" And Louis might or not might have cried a little at that, no need to mention that though, this is humiliating enough already. Tugging on a loose fray of his shirt, he lowers his eyes at the floor, hot shame curling in his stomach and making him feel sick. He swallows though his mouth is free from any spit, "I really thought Nick would cover when I didn’t show anymore, so I just went home.” To sob and weep all over the floor, to feel the saddest he ever felt. Because it all became real in that moment, he really was going to live with his sister, his bank account frozen.

It had all been a major shock to him. After he’d collected himself, he’d taken the rest of the cocaine. It sent a wave of relief through his tired body, bringing his bones just a bit more to life again, before he’d showered and his mum came knocking on his door to put him onto the train.

"So, you buy bloody coke without knowing you’ve got the money for it?" Harry speaks up, annoying Louis to no end. Irritated that Harry is interfering in the conversation, he sends him a dark glower. Harry's intense eyes stare right back at him, unwavering. It's unsettling.  

Zayn huffs as Harry steps towards Louis. However, before he can reach him, Zayn holds him back by putting a hand on his puffed out chest. "Let’s not, Harry."

Harry purses his lips, they both have a conversation with their eyes, then he shrugs, leaving it to Zayn with a muttered, “Have at it.”

Thank god, Louis thinks, eyeing Harry's massive biceps that stretch the material of his jumper. He wouldn’t stand a chance if it came to a fight.

"It was a hell of a dick move, you pulled there, Louis." Zayn says, "I was so mad. Still am."

"I’m sorry,” Louis says with hunched shoulders, feeling the tension loosen a little.

"I’d say it’s all right but I need that money by the end of the week."

Shit, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

"I don’t…" have the money, ( _any_ money really. Fuck.) Louis is in deep shit right now, if the look Zayn throws him now is anything to go by.

And - the tension is back. _Yay_.

"I can get the money." Louis says a tad desperately. There has to be some sort of way to get that bloody money, even if asking his family is out of the question, they would know the moment he closes his mouth. Besides, his parents froze his fucking account for a reason.

"How?" Zayn blinks at him, arching a lazy brow.  

Before Louis can say anything, Harry steps forward a second time.

"I’ve got an idea." He says, smirking now. Louis would love to slap it off his stupidly pretty face.

This cannot be good, he thinks, somber.

"Go on." Zayn coaxes with a swirling movement of his hand.

Louis swallows, he doesn’t like where this is going, so he speaks his first frightening thought out loud, "You not gonna rot me out, are you?"

"We should." Harry spits, tense lines forming on his forehead. "You know what happens to us, when the addicts don’t fucking pay?"

Not wanting to know the answer to that, and ignoring very hard the word ‘addict’, Louis pulls his upper lip between his fingers, twisting it until he feels pain, which shouldn’t feel as calming as it does.

"What can I do for you?" He exhales, releasing his lip in favour of wetting it with a short flicker of his tongue.

"Help us out a little." Harry says, taking a step towards Louis for every word that he speaks. This time Zayn doesn’t stop him, “Join me on some trips, pay back the money. Easy peasy."

Yeah, no. Not gonna fucking happen.

"I don’t wanna get involved in that." Louis nearly whimpers, his entire body stiffening.

"Well, too bad, Lou." Zayn singsongs, grinning like a cat. “You just got front row seats for the shit show."

"Hey, wait a fucking sec." Liam speaks up, wide eyes blinking from boy to boy, "You guys can’t make him sell drugs, c’mon."

"Liam, baby, this is between Louis here and me." Zayn says, winking when Liam looks at him, "Let's chat in the garden, yeah?” He says directed at Louis. It's no question. Louis has no choice.

"Okay." Louis says with a trembling voice. Zayn nods towards the backdoor, setting Louis in motion. When he passes Lara, the girl gives him a pitying smile.

Zayn stops Harry, when he attempts to follow them.  

Louis watches impatiently from the doorway, tapping his finger against it. He wants this to be over as soon as possible.

Zayn whispers something in Harry’s ear which makes the boy smile a little, nodding along with the words. Not knowing what Zayn is saying sends another wave of anxiety down Louis' already stiff spine. His hand falls to his side, fingers twitching.

When Louis catches Harry's eyes over Zayn’s shoulder, the boy quirks a brow, a mischievous smile appearing on his pink lips. Louis can’t bring himself to look away, though it makes him flush. Then Zayn claps Harry's waist, hip-bumping him in passing to get to the door and the weird spell is broken.

When Louis turns to follow Zayn outside, he still can feel the green eyes on his back, like a cat watching a mouse in the grass. He lets the door swing shut behind him, and with a click, the burning in his neck disappears. It's just him and Zayn now, like countless times before. The tension is there and Louis can't ignore it. It's nothing like back in London.

Zayn sits on the stairs, which lead to the green lawn. Louis shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not knowing what to do. He had expected Zayn to shove him or something.

Zayn does a double-take over his bony shoulder and frowns, patting the spot beside him.

Right.

Louis sits down next to his once favourite dealer. It might not be the right moment to say he’s missed him but still, just looking at Zayn lets a pang of regret explode in his chest.

It's cold out in the low evening breeze.

He places his elbows on his knees, interlocking his fingers while keeping his gaze forward, watching the trees bend slightly. Being outside and not in the stuffy room clears his head and he breathes in the air.

"Want one?" Zayn offers a cig quietly, which Louis takes, glad having something to concentrate on. Louis doesn’t know what’s coming next and all the possibilities shooting through his mind aren’t helpful at all.

The boy lights up their cigarettes, Louis inhaling deeply to calm his nerves.

"Sorry I fucked off." Louis says, exhaling smoke, feeling nicotine tingle in his toes as he wiggles them in his shoes, "I’m a twat.”

"You are." Zayn agrees.

Watching a bird fly over them, Louis wets his lips.

"You could’ve told me, y’know?"

"What?" Louis brows knit together.

"That you were leaving." Zayn mutters around the butt, “Thought we were friends. Friends tell each other stuff. Didn’t even know you have a sister."

Louis shrugs, "Well yeah, never trust a dealer too much, right?"

"That’s right." Zayn corresponds delicately, lips turning downward. "But we’re humans too, Louis. We don’t like violence either."

Louis snorts, unable to help it.

Zayn boxes his shoulder, as if he can’t help it either.

Neither of them say a word for the next couple of minutes, not exactly back to enjoying each others company, but the heat of the fight cools down with the temperature.

"What’re you doing here, Zayn?"

The raven haired boy looks at him. “What d‘you mean? I’m from around here, Manchester is my hometown.”

Louis lifts his brows, “We’re not in Manchester.”

“Don’t I know…” Zayn says, sighing.

"What’s going on with you and Liam?" Louis wiggles his brows, trying to lighten the gloomy mood. "I saw how those brown puppy eyes looked at you."

Zayn grins, “Bugger off."

"Never."

"Wanted to hide out for a few days." Zayn says, smile dropping. "Wasn't ready to get beaten up for the lost money."

 _Fuck_.

"You’d get beaten up for that?" Louis asks bewildered, his heart stopping for a moment at the thought of Zayn lying on the ground, trying to shield his face with his hands from the kicks and hits.

He swallows, trying to get rid of the image forming in his head.

It’s not working.  

"It wasn’t always like that, but the addicts get more and more reckless and the Big Boss is sick of running after them, gets nothing out of it anymore, so he turns against his own people. It’s easier and sends a message to the others to behave." Zayn lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, as if it’s a normal thing to say.

Louis shudders and not from the cold.

"That’s messed up." He blurts, feeling sick at the idea of putting someone in that position.

“It is what it is.” Zayn muses. “Still, I’m trying to avoid it.” Zayn slurs, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, "Not fancying getting my face fucked up again."

"Again?" Louis exclaims, turning to Zayn with wide eyes.

"It happens once in awhile." Zayn stumps out his cig with the tip of his shoe, drawing his knees to his chest.

"It _shouldn’t._ "

"Louis," Zayn whispers, voice thick, "leave it."

"Why’re you doing this, if you get hurt?"

"I don’t always get hurt."

"Oh, excuse me for getting it wrong." Louis spits sarcastically, rage making his hands shake, he throws the half smoked cigarette away, can’t stand the taste of ash anymore, "Once in awhile, is it? It’s still too often. Why the hell are you staying?"

"Mate, I need the money."

"Get a _normal_ job, then."

Zayn snorts disbelievingly, "With what education? Dropped out of school when I was fourteen."

Oh, bloody hell.

There is _no_ winning. There are two possibilities as to how this will play out. Zayn being friendly right now doesn’t change the fact that he’s still cross with Louis. So yeah, option one is refusing to get the money, not just because Louis tries to be a spoiled brat, he doesn’t know how. The thing is, it would leave both of them hurt, Zayn would go back to London without the money, get beaten up, and in return Harry would beat up Louis. The second option is… Louis swallows.

"I’m gonna do it." Louis’ voices cracks at the end.

Zayn’s head snaps in his direction, unbelieving round-as-plates eyes stare at him, making Louis squirm.

"What?"

"I’m in," Louis huffs, he can’t wrap his head around the fact he’s actually agreeing to this. “Only… ’til I earned all the money I still own you.”

"Wouldn’t want to have it any other way." Zayn says, which might come across as sarcastic, except for the fact his voice is full of fond. "Don't wanna drag you in too deep."

"Well, that’s nice to know." Louis remarks, bringing his gaze back to the trees.

"Bugger off, Lou." The other boy says without heat.

"Right back at you, Zaynie."

They smoke another cigarette in silence, both of them hanging after their own thoughts. The sunset turns the rain clouds to a pastel orange, and Louis prays this is a good sign.

 

*   *   *

 

Back inside, Lara is still curled in on herself on the sofa. Harry’s next to her, pouting like a moody child who’s been left out of sharing the sweets, hair an unruly mess like he ran his fingers through it several times. One of his arms is slung over the back of the sofa, while his Dr. Marten boots are propped on the coffee table in front of him. His grumpy expression changes the moment he sees them, gaze flickering from Zayn to Louis and back.  

Louis stays behind Zayn, coughing awkwardly. When they announce the decision they have made, there is no going back.  

Harry scrambles off the sofa, startling Lara, who blinks her eyes open in discombobulation.

Liam is the first one to speak. He’s been pacing in a triangle in front of the telly, and when he spots them, he stills, letting up from his bottom lip. “We don’t need any plasters.” He says way too calmly, eyeing Zayn up and down. “Or do we?“ Liam adds with a nervous glint in his brown eyes.

Zayn snorts, “Nah, I chose not to rip Louis’ head off.”

“Oi!” Louis protests, slapping Zayn’s flank, “Who says I’d be the one in need of a band aid?”

“Please.” Zayn huffs, brushing his dark hair off his forehead, “You’d hurt yourself trying to harm anyone else.”

He’s…got a point there. But still, Louis is kind of offended.

“So what’s happening now?” Harry presses, brows knitting together, since Zayn and Louis are joking with each other instead of fighting.

Louis hides his smug smirk behind his hand and shares a look with Zayn, who shrugs insignificantly.

Right, okay.

Inhaling deeply, he meets Harry’s eyes. Louis thinks he’s the most important person in it, anyway, since he’s the only other drug dealer in the room and Louis is going to be his little helper bee for the next… - Louis doesn’t dare to take a guess, how long it’ll take to earn all that money back.

“Well, looks like your wish to spend more time with me is coming true.” Louis frowns, and speaks up again, interrupting Harry who had already parted his lips to voice his thoughts. “Wait, why can’t I help you?” He looks at Zayn, seeing Harry’s mouth snap shut out of the corner of his eye, jaw clenching. Odd.

Zayn lifts a lazy eyebrow, back to being his usual unimpressed self, “Gotta hide.” He stage-whispers to Louis, “Remember?”

Oh, yeah…that makes sense.

Louis nods, clapping his hands once like a teacher at the end of the class. “All right, what I said before, I’m all yours, Harry.” He bites his tongue, but he can’t force the words back down his throat, that sounded a bit…intense.

“Can’t wait.” Harry says, sarcasm a thick layer in his voice. Louis rolls his eyes at him.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Liam asks, earning a glare from Harry and Zayn.

“Yes, he’s sure.“ Zayn answers for Louis, “He's got no other option, right Lou?” Zayn nudges him with his elbow, making Louis nod in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s whatever, can’t take too long right?” He says, glancing between Harry and Zayn for confirmation. “A couple of trips, yeah Harry?”

The boy in question shrugs, saying, “Give it a few days.”

“Hold the fuck up.” Everyone turns to look at Lara in unison. hey must make quite the picture. Louis had forgotten about her all along. It’s the first time he’s heard her voice today, “How much cocaine did you buy?”

“Steal.” Zayn corrects, incorrectly.

“ _Borrow_.” Louis throws right back, “I’ll get your bloody money.”

“Guys.” Lara stands from the sofa, crossing her arms, a stern expression shadowing her face.

Uneasy once more, Louis scratches his naked arm. “Not _that_ much.”

Zayn snorts, unamused. “ _Right_ Louis, seventy grams of coke is nothing.”

“What?” Liam squeaks with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “No way! That’s like…five grand?” He gulps.

Zayn bobs his head from side to side, rubbing his chin, grinning. “Hm, yeah, close enough.”

“What can I say…” Louis grumbles, wrinkling his nose. “It was a huge party.”

Harry scoffs, muttering something that sounds dangerously like _rich people_ under his breath.

Louis pointedly ignores him. “Anyway,” He waves an airy hand. "Gonna get the fucking money back and we all can be besties again."

Zayn, to his surprise, drapes an arm around his shoulder, tucking him close.

“That’s true, Lou.” He coos, ruffling Louis' hair. “Not letting you fuck off another time.”

Looking around, seeing Harry smirking to himself, Liam gasping at him in bemusement and Lara watching them like a hawk, Louis gets the odd feeling that he’s just signed his soul twice over to Satan in under a year.

Hopefully he won’t miss out on heaven too much.

 

*   *   *

 

"So, where's your girlfriend I was promised to meet tonight?" Louis asks, plopping down next to Lara on the sofa.

With a groan she leans the back of her head against the armrest, legs stretching across Louis' lap instantly. He lays his hands on her shins, raising an expectant eyebrow at her.

Lara glares at him, then sighs, eyes rolling heavenward, “As you can see,” She says lamely, waving her hand in the air, “not present.”

Louis frowns. “Why’s that?”

“Said she gotta catch up on sleep, or summat.” Lara muses, kicking his outer thigh, frustrated.

He grabs her foot, lifting it high until it must hurt. Sure enough she yelps, snapping upright. Grinning he lets it drop to his lap and pats it. “Don’t be so grumpy, sleep is important.”

“More important than your girlfriend?” She gives him a flat look.

Before Louis can think of an answer, Liam nudges him, making him slide closer to Lara. She draws her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively. Without a word Liam hands each of them a spliff, one for his own pleasure already trapped between his teeth.

Just as Louis takes his own in his mouth, a shadow appears, hovering over him. He glances up at Harry's scrunched face.

“What?” Louis mutters, frowning.

“No smoking in the house.” Harry points at Liam, whose hands are frozen in the air in an attempt to light up his blunt.

“We smoked in here last—” Louis’ voice dies in his throat as Harry sends him another death glare. It shouldn’t be this endearing, he looks like an angry kitten.

“I know.” He drawls slowly, green eyes back at fixing Liam on the spot, “It took me _days_ to get rid of the smell.”

“All right, all right.” Liam says, holding up his palms in surrender. “Outside, it is.”

And with that, they all huddle in the cold on the terrace, thick blankets giving some illusion of warmth. Louis’ teeth might or not might be clattering. Darkly he glowers at Harry, who’s sitting opposite him, sucking on his own blunt. Harry doesn’t like the smell in his house, but he sure wants to be part of the fun.

Not that Louis cares, he’s way too high for that.

He’s more interested in Zayn and Liam, who are cuddled together underneath the layers of soft fabric. Zayn’s head rests on Liam’s shoulder while they share a joint and talk quietly in each others ears. Liam says something that makes Zayn smile lazily and he kisses Liam’s cheek. Louis is surprised to see Zayn being this affectionate. He may be Louis' friend, who laughs at all of his jokes, who has spent an unknown amount of time saving Louis' arse in situations he couldn’t get out of alone. But this, right in front of his eyes, is something else. This isn’t _Zayn-The-Cold-Drug-Dealer_ , this isn’t _Zayn-The-Chilled-Friend,_ this is a new side of him and Louis is happy to witness it. He’s glad Zayn has someone as sweet as Liam.

Watching them for another moment, he speaks up, “Guys I’ve got a joke.” His words are slurred but it gets him the attention he wanted so he continues, a small smile on his lips. “When I see lovers’ names carved in a tree. I don’t think it’s sweet. I just think it’s surprising how many people bring a knife on a date.”

It gets some quiet laughter out of the bunch, the loudest and most surprising cackle coming from Harry. It’s a loud honk of a laugh and Louis knows the joke hadn’t been that funny, but still, Harry’s face is adorably scrunched, his eyes sparkling. When Louis lifts his brows, Harry drops his gaze to his lap, still chuckling.

Louis knows it’s the weed laughing, that he’d have gotten snorts and groans if they hadn’t been high. Still though, after a day like today, it’s good to see them all this happy. Even Lara has an amused glint in her eyes.

“What are _you_ laughing at, Harry?” Lara asks with a lazy smirk, “Anything to share with the class?”

Harry's chuckles die down, he huffs, rubbing below his nose, cheeks heating in a slight pink as the attention of them all lingers on him. He blinks his lids like a confused owl, “Nothing to share.” He drawls, brows dipped low.

“Isn't that something you-”

“Nope.” Harry cuts in, “I got another joke though.” This time around, Louis is the only one who isn’t groaning.

“No Harry, please don’t.” Lara giggles causing Harry to pout adorably. No, not adorably, of course not, more like…a fish. Do fish pout? Louis decides they do.

“I wanna hear it.” Louis says without thinking.

Harry looks at him then, surprise clear on his face, green eyes twinkling underneath the low lights of the terrace. Clearing his throat he sits more upright, tugging on his bandana.

“Alright.” He says, grinning. “What are a shark’s two most favourite words?” Harry glances around dramatically, then his eyes lock with Louis’ and Louis gets the weird feeling that Harry is telling the joke more to him than to the group. “Man overboard!” Harry exclaims, covering his giggles with the back of his hand. The group joins with chuckles, but Louis actually laughs. If Harry is not blaming the weed for his laugh, Louis sure will.

“Another?” Harry asks, wiggling his eyebrows cheekily.

“ _No!_ ” Lara, who’s sitting closest to Harry, covers his mouth.

“Well—” Louis starts, but as he meets Zayn’s don’t-you-dare glare, he bites his tongue. He presses his lips together. “Maybe…later.”

As the amusement dies down and the atmosphere is back to being cosy, Louis gets to his feet. Tiredly rubbing at his eyes, he leaves them be. Lara is curled asleep and Zayn and Liam are still being the sickly loving couple while Harry’s eyelids are drooping as well. Louis craves some space. Without being noticed, he walks down the wooden stairs to the garden.

Louis gets like this sometimes, when he’s on weed. He likes to be alone at some point, just him and his mushy brain. Usually he minds that, but right now it sounds like the best of ideas. So he ambles over the damp grass, the sky having cleared and not  looking like it will rain again tonight. He slips on the ground, and before he can react, he falls flat on his bum.

Blinking against the darkness surrounding him, he lays back, spreading his arms to the side, mirroring the stars above.

Looking up at the dark sky, through heavy-lidded eyes he watches the stars sparkle, blinking just like little lights in the distance. Louis breaths slowly in and out, feeling sleep pulling at him, but he’s not ready to let go.

Clinging to consciousness like a lifeline, he’s stroking the grass, enjoying the feeling of it as he hears someone approaching him, soles gliding over the ground. He hears the person stumble, their breath catching and then the steps continue. Louis imagines feeling each of them echoing in his bones until that someone stops. Louis closes his eyes.

Louis really, really shouldn’t know who it is. But the truth is, just from the person’s shaky exhale, he can pinpoint him.

Harry plops down next to him, stretching with a sigh. He doesn’t speak, so Louis stays quiet too. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say, being in the state he’s in and all.

The only noises now are their breathing. It’s calming, just like the night and Louis fights once again to stay awake. Opening his eyes, he gazes at the soft dots painted on the sky.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels fingers touching his open palms, his lashes flutter like butterfly wings.

It’s a soft touch, causing goosebumps to raise on his arms, even his legs, damn no, his whole fucking body reacts to it. His nervous system sends waves of pleasure underneath his skin.

His mouth runs dry but he swallows anyway.

“The stars are hypnotising, don’t you think?” Louis whispers after a moment, his voice hoarse from not being used for a long time.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, just as quietly.

Neither of them says anything for a while. Louis doesn’t know if its minutes or hours when Harry finally speaks again.

“Are you scared?”

Louis brows knit together in confusion. At the moment he’s anything but scared.

“Wha’?” He slurs.

“About the drug dealing,” Harry whispers, fingers drawing patterns on Louis' palm. Louis’ pinky twitches.

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs, inhaling deeply, breathing out shakily, “I am.”

The patterns stop but the touch stays and as Harry doesn’t answer, Louis loses focus all together. Relaxing his body, he interlocks his fingers with Harry’s without the boy's approval.

Louis falls asleep shortly after, feeling the warmth of the other boy close to his body.

 

*   *   *

 

When he wakes up, Louis blinks not up at a blue sky but a ceiling. Confused, he rubs the sleep out of his heavy-lidded eyes, sure he had fallen asleep underneath the stars. Louis didn’t smoke so much weed that he could make that up, right? All he remembers is a warm feeling, heat… He frowns, body heat?

Harry.

Oh.

His eyes widen - Harry was with him. He sits up slowly, a blanket slipping off his shoulders with the movement, pooling only around his hips.

Louis is alone in the living room, but the fear of being the only one in the house disappears rather quickly. He hears chatter coming from the kitchen, chairs being dragged across the floor and water running. Well, he thinks darkly, at least they didn’t fuck off like last time. Louis can’t handle being with only Harry. One-on-one time with the boy is unsettling.

His foot gets tangled in the blanket when he stands up, making him stumble as he tries to shake it off, almost falling face first into the table. He hobbles awkwardly, letting out a frustrated grunt. He steadies himself on the headrest of the sofa.

Finally free, Louis sends the blanket of death a last grumpy glare before he shuffles towards the noise. The pounding in his temples quickens when he reaches the doorway. Perhaps him and Harry under the sky was just a weird dream he thinks, sleepily blinking against the sun that lightens the kitchen.

Lara and Niall are seated on the stools, backs turned toward him. Harry is not among them, only Zayn and Liam, preparing — breakfast? Lunch? What time is it, Goddamnit - whatever. They are making food and by the smell of it, it’s not something Louis wants to have a bite of. It smells burnt, even though the window is wide open.

“Morning Tommo,” Zayn greets, waving lazily from his spot near the cooker, rustling with a pan.

Liam holds out the rubbish bin for Zayn, who throws the burnt food into it with a scrunched face. It looks like sad brown pancakes.

“Hey, look who’s come back from the dead.” Niall beams at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis says, dragging his feet closer, so he can rest half of his body weight against the breakfast bar for support. God, he’s still so exhausted. Rubbing his face, he groans, “Fuck, what did we _do_ last night?”

“Awh Lou, you getting old?” Lara teases, taking a sip of her coffee.  

Louis glares at her half-heartedly, but before he can defend himself, a voice rumbles through the room. It sends shock waves down Louis' spine, which, truthfully, is uncalled for. There is no fucking reason for those kind of emotions. Still, Louis whips around.

“I think you’re older than Louis.” Harry leans against the doorframe, socked feet crossed at the ankles, looking casual as ever. Harry’s green eyes won’t meet his, his gaze fixed on Lara, brows lifted in amusement.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Louis says, slowly, dumbfounded.

As Harry still isn’t looking his way, Louis frowns. Maybe it really was a dream, he should cut short on weed next time around. Weed-Hangover is not a thing, Louis knows, but he’s also had a beer too many, so he can blame it on that. Right? Right.

Louis notices Harry’s shoulders stiffen, it’s just a bit of tension, something he definitely shouldn’t pick up on in the first place.  

“I’m twenty-two, sweetheart.” Lara nudges him, bringing his attention back to her, “But thank you hun.”

Louis grins against his will, “Oh, well,” and he leaves it at that as he’s too tired to find a good comeback. One thing though, “is there still coffee left?” He addresses Liam, who’s just poured himself a cup.

“Uh…yeah,” He says, getting out another cup for Louis.

Taking the coffee gratefully, Louis inhales deeply. “Thanks mate.” He says, taking a careful sip. It’s hot and he blows it.

“You drink it black?”  Niall makes a face, “That’s disgusting.”

“Nah, if you don’t like the taste of coffee, you shouldn’t be drinking it.”

“Yeah, actually I’m drinking tea.”

“Good for you, Neil.”

“It’s Niall.”

Louis rolls his eyes, drinking his coffee slowly. He almost chokes on it, because — wait a fucking second.

“When the hell did you get here?” He coughs, eyes tearing up.

Niall snorts into his tea, drowning the rest like a shot, he grins, smacking his lips together twice. “You were so out of it.” There is a glint in the blue of his eyes Louis can’t pinpoint. He doesn’t like that…at all.

“I was not.” He protests, frowning. “I just…can’t remember.”

Snorting again, the blond shakes his head, eyes glancing over his shoulder to where Harry is standing.

Louis blinks, not understanding the connection. Whatever, maybe it’s a good thing his mind draws a blank, so he leaves it be without too much of a fight. Besides his headache is getting stronger and he has no nerve to deal with this anyway. Niall is present, end of story.

“You’re going back to Manchester?” Liam asks, nodding at Harry.

Louis' ears shouldn't perk at that, but.

“Uh, no,” Harry says, coming to a halt next to Louis, crossing his naked arms on the counter, so close that Louis can smell the boy’s cologne tingling in his nostrils. He scrunches his nose. “Next weekend, I guess, haven’t gotten a call, yet.”

Liam nods again, brown eyes serious. “Zayn is coming with me.”

Harry frowns, glance flickering between the couple, “What? Wouldn’t it be smarter to stay?”

Zayn gives a half-shrug, eyes fixed on his mug, “Nah, mate. No one's gonna look for me in the dorms.”

“You study?” Louis interjects, blinking in confusion. And yesterday Zayn was mad about Louis not telling him a thing about his life, while Zayn is a fucking student? What the fuck? How —

“I do.” Liam says, puffing out his chest. “Politics.”

Oh, right. Zayn dropped out of school.

“It’s so boring.” Lara groans dramatically.

“It’s not, it’s important.” Liam argues, placing his coffee on the counter.

“Here we go.” Niall grunts, hopping off the stool. “I’m off, before this gets out of hand.”

Liam tosses a towel at him, Niall dancing out of the way, and with a mocking _ha-ha_ he’s out of the kitchen.

“Anyway…” Liam says, crossing his arms, “We’re leaving soon.”

Harry shakes his head, brows still pushed together, “Stupid idea.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “I’m safe there as much as I am here, mate, c’mon.” He claps Harry's shoulder in passing.

The moment Zayn leaves, Harry is in front of Liam in no time. Louis and Lara gasp in unison as Harry pokes a finger in the other’s chest.

“Listen, I know you love Zee and all that, but the shit that’s going on is way over your head, as smart as you are. This is not something you should get involved in.“ Harry hisses. Louis has never heard the boy speak so fast. “This is not some fun hide and seek game. If he’s found out I don’t know what will happen to him, and if you’re with him—”

“I will protect him.” Liam exclaims, his eyes flashing. Louis imagines seeing flames of anger in the brown. Maybe the weed hasn’t worn off yet, he thinks, watching as the two boys have a staring contest.

“Liam,” Harry groans, ruffling his hair in frustration. He takes a step back, “You can’t do shit when they show up with guns.”

Louis’ blood runs cold, “What?” He squeaks, “What are you talkin’ about?”

As both of them talk over him, Harry says, “He's safe here.” While Liam rasps, “They know where you live. They know everything!”

Well, if that’s not pretty unsettling, Louis thinks, watching Harry take another step back until he’s leaning on the breakfast bar for support. Harry’s back is turned to Louis but he doesn’t have to see his face to know there is a frown visible.

“I know.” Harry rasps, clearing his throat. “So, have you anything else to add?” He asks with a stronger voice.

“Yes, I do, actually” Liam says, touching Harry's shoulder, “If you’re in, you’re in.” He might be talking to Harry, but his meaningful gaze is pointed Louis' way, and if his blood was frozen before, it’s boiling now. Fear and nerves flow through his veins.

Liam leaves them and Louis listens to Zayn and Liam talk quietly until the door slams and they are gone.

Louis can’t breathe. He stares blankly into his cup, dark liquid slopping from side to side. His hands are shaking, so he places it carefully not to spill anything on the counter. Clearing his throat he tugs on his neckline in discomfort, it’s too tight. “I…I,” he stutters, “this is my fault.”

Harry doesn’t turn around,isn’t showing any sign that he’s heard Louis, though Louis is sure he must have. Louis knows Harry couldn’t do anything but agree. So what’s the point anyway? This is his fucking fault. He’s done this.

Lara squeezes his thigh and the air in the small, beautiful country-kitchen is not nearly enough. It’s stuffy even though the window is still open. Louis’ throat is dry and there is no spit in his mouth to swallow.

Legs itching to run, he’s off. Without another word, he jogs through the living room, foot getting caught on the rug, making him stumble. Ignoring Niall’s confused calls, he swings the door open and breathes in the fresh morning air.

Inhaling deeply and breathing out shakily, he clenches and unclenches his fists. Wobbling down the stairs, he sits down in the middle of the green. Looking heavenward, he thinks it will rain soon. There are no birds and here in the shadows of the trees, there is no sun as well.

Just Louis, his racing thoughts, and the clouded sky.

Putting his head between his knees, he watches an insect crawling over the green. It looks like it’s trying to climb the blades of grass, but it fails and lands on its back. All its little legs upright, moving fast trying to get up again.

Maybe that’s him, he thinks somberly, watching it struggle a bit longer. It’s him trying to get out of this mess. The more he moves, the deeper he gets. He doesn’t want to sell drugs, it’s no funny business. People always end up hurt, dealer or buyer, the only one winning in this are the big bosses who cash the money. Louis has seen stuff, is the thing. He’s been pinned to more walls and had his face beaten more times than he can count.

Zayn helped him out of it. Knowing the right people, smoothing the situation with his low, gentle voice and the perfect words to say. Louis never appreciated it back then, too high and having too much energy he needed to burn off.

Louis never cared for his life, Zayn never understood.

This is different though. Like Liam said, if you’re in, you’re in. Louis would love to have a kick again, but not _that_ kind of kick. This is…too serious.

Jail hadn't been fun either and Louis had only spent one single night in a cell - along with people he knew, who were his friends.

Louis doesn't think jail this time around would go as easy.

And all because of one little mistake. Funnily enough, it wasn’t his fault that they ended up in fucking jail for a night. However, the police didn’t see it that way, nor did his parents.

Maybe he should ask Lottie to help him out, she has money, right? Don’t their parents send her a sum for him and his needs, as long Louis stays at hers? And well, Louis truly is in need. However, there is no way in hell she'd ever help him out of a mess like this. Lottie would call their parents and whoosh — he’d be on his way to rehab.

No, no thanks.

He doesn’t want to be somewhere he doesn’t know anyone. With all the _addicts_ , hearing their _sob-stories_ …in - Louis' faces twists at that — _group-therapy_. Single therapy, talking to someone you don’t know…and they ask personal questions while staring you down. Yeah...no.

Maybe Louis could run away, leaving this small town in favour of another small town, somewhere far away. Hop on to the train and escape. Perhaps his parents would take him back in. He could make up a nice little story, like he's allergic to the trees or something. He could do better in London too, why is he here anyw-

Louis startles as a hand touches his shoulder. The thought disappears with a puff when Louis blinks and looks up.

Harry watches him with a soft expression.

“Are you…alright?” He asks, folding his arms behind his back. He looks like a school boy.

“Fuck no.” Louis snaps, irritated and scared. “Do I look alright to you?”

“Okay.” Harry blinks, exhaling as he sits down a safe distance from Louis, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Shoot.”

Louis strokes his legs in a soothing pace. “There is nothing to tell.” As Harry arches a disbelieving eyebrow at him, Louis adds, “Dunno, ‘s just…” He trails off, looking back down at the insect, only to find it gone.

“Nothing will happen to you.”

Louis scoffs, starting to rip out grass. Harry’s words mean _nothing_ , Louis knows it’s not true anyway. How could he even know that?

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

Anyhow, Harry says that now — but is he some sort of future-seeing guy? No, Louis doesn’t think so, which means Harry can’t know that something bad isn’t going to happen while they sell drugs. Which means Louis can’t believe a word Harry is saying, even if he wants to.

Louis swallows, unsure if he’s able to speak.

“Louis, please _trust_ me on this.” Harry presses desperately. “I want to get Zayn out of this situation.”

“Why don’t you give him the money then?” That's…actually a great idea. If Zayn means so much to Harry, he can get him easily out of it. Right?

Harry’s expression darkens, lips a straight line. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Arching an eyebrow, Louis watches Harry’s Adam-apple bobble.  

“I need that money.”

That’s an easy fucking explanation, come to think of it. Everybody needs money, so why not miss out on it one time? Louis wants to ask, he wants to snap at Harry but — the thing is, this isn’t Harry's mess, he’s trying to help Louis out. Whatever the reason, Louis doesn’t press more, concentrating on the problem at hand.

Inhaling, Louis gathers himself. He can do it. But-

“What was that back inside?” He nods towards the house, Harry following his glance like he had forgotten where they were. He gives a half-shrug.

“Liam is a good guy.” Harry whispers, like it’s a secret. “He doesn’t know… he’s not…” Groaning when he can’t find the right words, he pulls at his hair. “’S’just dangerous when you mix it with love.”

“Why?” Louis asks once more.

“Because—” Inhaling, Harry looks to the trees, eyes distant. “You…don’t think clearly, y’know?”

No, Louis doesn’t know. He’s never been in this situation before. Besides, boyfriends were out of the question for him. Still, he humours Harry and nods.

“Liam,” Harry picks up again, after a moment. “He’s a good student, excellent at that. Dunno, he just…thinks he can protect Zayn, but whatever. S’not like _I_ get it.” Harry sniffs, rubbing beneath his nose. Grinning suddenly, Harry’s eyes sparkle. “Love really makes you do stupid shit, eh? So smart but yet…” Harry clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

Louis snorts, grinning along with Harry, feeling settled. Decision made a second time around.

“Alrighty-o,” Louis says, getting up. “When, how, where?”

Surprised, Harry looks up at him, “What?”

“Uh…the deals?” Louis says slowly, as if he were speaking to a child, arching a brow.

It’s funny, he can actually see the wheels turning inside Harry’s head, and when the words sink in, it gets even better because Harry lights up. Green eyes brighten even though they are in the shadows.

“Oh…” Harry rumbles, scrambling off the ground. “Yeah, yeah. Right…so you're feeling better about it? You're in-in?”

Shrugging, Louis sticks out his hand. “Yep,” Louis affirms, popping the p.

Harry eyes him, and Louis tries to give off a confident air. When Harry finally seems to believe Louis' act, he takes his hand, shaking it with a firm grip. Louis doesn’t notice the surprising softness of Harry’s hand, of course, why would he? Louis takes a step back, rubbing a hand awkwardly over the back of his head, ignoring the tingling on his palm.

“What now?” Louis asks.

Harry thumbs over his shoulder, backtracking already towards the house. “We go back inside,” he says, smiling cheeky, pointing gun signs at Louis, “and get wasted.”

Louis juts out his bottom lip, nodding his head. “A typical Sunday.”  

Harry winks and turns, not waiting for Louis to catch up to him before slipping back inside, taking the settled feeling with him and Louis' smile drops, not as confident anymore.

He gulps. The decision is made, it’s done, it’s a sealed deal. There is _no_ way out. Louis moves towards the chatter that floats outside and watches the small group from the doorway.

Niall and Lara are on the sofa, fighting about a bottle of Jack Daniels, Harry on the floor watching them with a soft expression. He just wants to add something when he stops, spotting Louis observing them.

He cocks an eyebrow, as if to ask ‘ _whatcha standing there for?’_ and Louis sticks out his tongue, because he has no idea what else to do. Harry makes a funny face back at him, coaxing a chuckle out of Louis.

The other two turn their heads towards him, alcohol forgotten momentarily. However, Louis ignores the concerned eyes from Lara and the relieved smile from Niall in favour of concentrating on Harry, since he's the one that doesn't look at Louis like he's going to make a run for it again. The boy pats the spot next to him and Louis shuffles forward, plopping down and drawing his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

It takes a bit for Louis to gain back enough strength to chime into the conversations that are going on around him. He pointedly avoids the glances Lara sends his way, all too worried for his liking and rather jokes with Niall, who’s beaming at him now that Louis has rejoined them.

They pass a bottle back and forth and when Harry hands it to him, their fingers brush. It's over quickly but there’s a electric spark that makes Louis hold the neck of the bottle tighter. He dips his head back, gulping down the liquor, pretending he doesn't feel Harry's eyes on him when he swallows and wipes his mouth with his bare wrist. All he wants from today is to forget everything for a little while.

 

*   *   *


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let the games begin...

 

 

*   *   *

 

“Tell me about your sex life.” 

Coughing violently, Louis slaps his chest, tears prickling in his eyes. He senses the annoyed glares of the other customers, but honestly no one can blame him for choking on his fucking lemonade.

Harry, the fucker, remains unimpressed, dipping his chip in ketchup and chewing slowly. He blinks at Louis calmly, as if he asked about the weather. Arching an eyebrow, he folds his hands underneath his chin. Seriously, what is wrong with him? Couldn’t they just eat their supper in silence? Louis would much prefer it that way.

Still flabbergasted as hell, Louis wipes his mouth, clearing his throat, “What?” He rasps, watching Harry steal one of his chips from his barely-touched plate.

Licking the salt from his lips, Harry explains. “When I had my first few drags of weed, I panicked. So, my friend gave me a little advice.” That makes no sense whatsoever. “You’ve got three options to help you calm down.” He drawls, eyelashes fluttering, “ _ One _ , eat.” Harry points at their untouched burgers, “ _ Two _ , tell a joke.“ And with another too intense glance, he finishes, “ _ Three _ , talk about sex.”

Louis swallows. He can’t lie. Louis is freaking the fuck out. His whole nervous system is set on fire, he’s hyper aware of the quiet chatter around them, the way Harry's green eyes bore into his and how clammy his palms are.

“Since you only picked at your burger, and you didn’t even crack a smile at my — hilarious, mind you - Knock-Knock jokes, we’re at option three — sex.”

“I can’t eat when I’m nervous.” Louis mutters, the smell of grease alone making his stomach turn. “And your jokes were lame as hell.”

“So, Louis. Are you one of the kinky ones or a vanilla type of guy?”

Louis snorts, though he can feel his face flush with the question. “None of your business.”

Harry pouts, “C’mon, humour me.”

“Eat your burger.”

“I’d rather know the answer.”

“ _ Excuse _ me.” Louis gets up from his chair, “I’m gonna use the loo.”

Leaning back, Harry crosses his arms behind his head, nodding once.

Brushing off the sweat onto his jeans, he makes it to the bathroom, the dim light flickering on when he enters the room.

Splashing cold water on his face, he breathes out shakily and looks up, the mirror telling him what he had no interest in knowing: he looks the same as he feels. His reflection is as pale as a ghost, the bags under his eyes thick and dark, his hair an unbearable mess.

Louis sighs, turning away to dry his hands and face.

See, the thing is, Louis doesn’t actually know why he’s in this sort-of-panic state. His heart is beating against his chest louder than any noise around him. He has been in a lot of trouble before, trouble just like that. Maybe on the receiving end and not the delivering, but it’s all the same.  _ Why is he filled with anxiety? _ Truth is, he has always been on drugs. So high, he only can remember the blur of it all. This time around, he’s sober, he’s exhausted from the lack of sleep he got last night and yeah, so.

The message from Harry came through an hour before he’d picked him up. Lottie and Tommy were home, so Louis had only one option left to get out of the house without being asked questions he had no answer to: he’d snuck out of the window, like a bloody teenager. His room is on the second level, mind you, so angling his body on the garage and dropping down ungracefully on the driveway, all under the amused, watching gaze of Harry hadn’t been fun at all. Apparently, Harry had got his number from Lara, and apparently, there are drug buyers on a Monday night in a small town like Macclesfield.

Louis leans his forehead against the cooling wall next to the mirrors, he wouldn’t do that normally, he bets it’s full of gems. The stickiness is proof enough. That’s how much he’s fucked. He doesn’t care.

Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling.

“Get a grip.” He tells himself, huffing and standing upright, “Fucker.” 

Without another gaze into the mirror, he lets the bathroom door swing shut behind him. The chatter is louder than he remembers when he makes his way back to the table. Harry is still there and Louis almost hoped he wouldn’t be.

The boy looks up when Louis sits down, some of his chips are missing and the burger looks disgusting, cold and all. He gulps down the rest of his lemonade, just so he can avoid the green eyes, which stare at him intensely.

“Thought you escaped through the window.” His voice rumbles, making Louis look up against his will and fuck… Harry’s just beautiful. Cocky smile and all.

Louis swallows. “Didn’t see any windows in there.”

Harry snorts and sinks lower onto his seat, stretching his giraffe legs until they touch Louis’ shins. He crosses his ankles and the tip of his shoe taps against Louis' leg in an aimless rhythm.

“Are you a virgin, Louis?”

“D’you ask everyone about this shit?” Louis snarks back.

And of course in that moment, the waitress comes to a stand in front of their table, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder. She smiles down sweetly at Harry, whose eyes still are on Louis, though his smile has gotten sharper somehow.

“Rose, darling, can I ask you a question?“ Harry asks with sparkling eyes, folding his hands beneath his chin again. Eyelashes fluttering, he looks up at the girl.

“Shoot,” the girl - Rose - turns her back to Louis, fingers spread like a spider on the table.

Louis knows what's coming next and he’d like to slam his head against the table. He can't do that, however, so he glides his bum to the edge of the chair, wishing he could at least hide under the table. Since he can't do either, he stares daggers at Harry hoping he'll change his mind. Instead, Harry looks at the waitress with a cheeky grin, dimples out and all.

“So, Rose,” Harry drawls ever so slowly, like he tastes each word before it leaves his lips. “Are you a  _ virgin _ ?”

Oh god, oh god.

Louis wants to be anywhere but here.

Rose laughs, her voice ringing in his ears.

“No,” She says slowly, blinking. “I’m not.”

Harry glances at Louis, his eyes shining bright with triumph. “ _ See _ , easy question.”

Rose turns then, looking between Harry and Louis until understanding colours her pretty face.  “Oh fuck off.” She scoffs, taking their plates and disappearing into the kitchen or wherever, Louis can’t be sure. His eyes are on Harry who is looking at him with a dancing gaze and Louis knows he’s lost a battle that didn’t exist in the first place.

“’M not a virgin.” Louis answers in the end, so they can let it go and move on.

“Well, was that so hard?” Harry asks, clicking his tongue. “Now tell me, who was the lucky…girl?” At the last word he arches an eyebrow and Louis feels hot all over.

He’s had no intentions of coming out to Harry, he also never thought the topic of sex would come up between them, but here they are.

Harry can’t be a homophobe, right? He’s friends with Lara, Zayn and Liam. Christ, okay. No way in hell, he’s going to…say something, do something.

The panic he’s felt before is interchanged with a new sort of panic, waves of anxiety swapping from his head to his toes, making his skin appear so much tighter. He hasn’t felt anything but hot since the moment he got into the bread van with Harry. It’s the kind of prickling hot that makes you pull your neckline more than once, makes you squirm in your seat and avoid eye-contact.

Louis, of course, does just that, fixing his eyes on the table that reflects the light from the gleaming bulb above them. “No girl,” Louis says carefully, unblinking. He can feel Harry’s gaze on him, but the boy remains silent. “His name was Jake… _ is _ Jake,” his fingers find the salt shaker and he starts playing with it, rolling it between his hands, though it’s sticky. His brows knit together as he continues, “Y’know I’m surprised I remember his name, can’t remember the night very clearly. It’s all kind of a blur.” He waves one of his hands in the air, the other still holding onto the salt with a too tight grip. “First time sex, first time drugs.” He explains after a long moment, “First time out at a real party, first time…” He inhales, “ _ everything _ , really.” Bringing his glance up to Harry, he laughs a little. “The usual.” Louis ends his rambling, shrugging as if it’s a joke. It’s not, it’s his life since then on.

Harry is not laughing, but he’s not smiling either, which is unexpected. A frown, yeah, there is a frown on his face that could also be a pout, Louis isn’t sure what it is or what it means. All he knows is that he just laid the truth out there for Harry to pick on. When Harry still isn’t saying anything — anything at all, and his eyes are too dark for the bright room, Louis thinks…knows, whatever…he’s said too much. It was a question he could’ve simply answered with a short  _ yes _ or  _ no _ . Instead, he said more than he wanted to and Harry…Harry is silent and it makes Louis squirm in his chair, crossing, uncrossing his ankles.

“Sorry,” Louis says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…” He shrugs, doesn’t know how to finish anyway, it’s just such a big piece of him. He needs Harry to say something. “What about you?” Louis asks, pulling on his neckline, sitting up straighter.

Blinking, Harry raises his brows, so slowly, like it's in slow-motion.

“What?” He rasps, frown deepening — how’s that even possible?

Louis lets go of the salt, sliding it against the metal napkin-holder with a soft bling. “What about your…first time?”

Harry shrugs, crossing his arms, “Some bloke from College, footie Captain or whatever.” Though the pout is still on his pink lips, he looks impersonal, his drawl without any tone in it, no sarcasm or gentleness to it; just…a whole lot of nothing, really. Like stating his order…no, he’d shown more emotion towards his uneaten burger than his first time having sex.

Louis is so caught on the fact that Harry seems unemotional about it, that the actual words come back to him a long, long moment later and it makes his throat tighten.

Okay.

Going over the words in his head, which he’s sure his brain didn’t make up, he raises his eyebrows, can feel them jump high in surprise, before he can school his expression because, what?

Harry is gay.

Like,  _ gay _ , as in he  _ likes _ boys.  

Everyone is gay in this town, apparently, or maybe it’s just Louis’ luck.

The fact that Harry likes boys…and girls maybe, (you never know, there are more than two sexualities out there and Harry hasn’t labeled himself, so.)  doesn’t change anything, does it? Louis feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, that he’s not hanging out with a bloke who…has something against gays…which is bollocks — again, Harry is friends with all the others who are very much gay and very much in same-sex relationships. So maybe it’s something else that disappeared, maybe it’s just… _ something _ .

Something that…

“Footie Captain, eh?” Louis says, because that’s the safest thing to say, right?

Right.

Harry sighs, “Yeah, was a good time until…”

“Until?” Louis prompts.

“His dad found out.”

“Oh fuck.”  

“Yeah…” 

Louis can imagine how that played out, but still…

“What happened?” Louis doesn’t like the concern he’s hearing in his own voice, it’s too gentle.

“We gotta go.” 

“What?” 

Harry’s already standing up, patting his pockets. Louis’ eyes trail over his caramel coloured hoodie, his long legs and snap a moment later back to Harry’s expressionless face.

“Business.” He draws out the word, hissing the  _ s _ like a snake and lifting an eyebrow, as if Louis is daft or something. 

The whole situation comes back to Louis as he gets up as well. He almost forgot why they are here in the first place, why they are hanging out and telling each other stuff…to distract Louis from the night, from the stuff they gotta do. Not because they are friends who hang out, no, no. Far from it, if the look on Harry’s face is anything to go by, and Louis can’t help but remember the day he got soaked from the rain and the walk home with Harry and the dog. The words, the words come back to him and… 

Louis shouldn’t feel hurt, he shouldn’t feel like the weight is back on his shoulders because it didn’t exist in the first place to begin with. 

But it’s there and it’s pulling at him and he’s standing so close to Harry, who’s staring at him again with his evergreen eyes and…

Whatever,  _ breathe _ . 

Fucking breathe, idiot. 

So he does, inhaling, exhaling like a normal human being. 

“Right.” Louis says, passing the tables. They are almost alone in the diner now, with only a bunch of teenagers in the booth at the very far end, looking drunk whilst stuffing their faces, laughing loudly while doing so. 

He holds the door open for Harry, stopping in the doorway on his own way out, hand gripping Harry's arm without thinking about boundaries first, because…

“We didn’t pay.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah, we did.” 

“No,” Louis presses, “we did not. Hold up - I just gotta.” He turns to go back inside, not wanting to steal a meal they hadn’t even touched, not really anyway, but Harry holds him back. Lacing their fingers together, he tugs until Louis’ stumbling out of the door and into Harry's chest. 

He smells delicious, cologne mixed with smoke and grease should not work, but somehow it does and Louis has to stop himself from inhaling the smell again. 

Not the point, bloody hell.

“I paid when you were in the loo.” His voice is quiet and the world around them is black, parted with some low light coming from the street lamps and Louis…Louis breaths in the cologne that’s kind of stronger on Harry’s chest and he wonders what kind of cologne it is, he can’t place it. 

Taking a step back, feeling his fingers dampen between Harry’s, he looks up to him, “You didn’t have to.” Louis says, voice matching Harry's. 

And the weird spell of gentle touches and quiet voices is broken by Harry’s snort, drawing his hand back, ruffling his curls. Harry shrugs, legs already in motion, walking towards the bread van parked in front of the diner, though his upper body is still kind of twisted to Louis. 

“’S’fine.” Is all he says before unlocking the car and hopping inside. 

Louis rounds it a moment later, still feeling weird, he can’t name the emotion, if he’s being honest. Taken aback, maybe, touched… _ weird _ . If there is an emotion named weird, that’s what Louis is feeling. So, yeah. Whatever.

Getting into the car, he bounces on the seat, kicking his legs out on the dashboard.

“Ciggy?” Harry asks, holding one out, another placed between his lips. 

Louis takes it, and Harry leans closer than necessary to light it. 

Then the car comes to life with a rattle, windows down, some song playing on the radio and smoke filling their lungs in the inside of the little shabby bread van.

“Where to?” Louis asks around the butt of his cig, “Who is it? What do they want?”

Harry purses his lips, shrugging. “Nothing big, some stoner wants some weed.”

“So we just…drive there?”

Harry is already shaking his head, an amused little smile on his lips, “It's easier. I think they’re waiting in a car.”

“All right,” Louis says looking out of the window, watching the houses blur together in the night.  

They make a left turn and park at the pavement. When the car’s turned off, Louis’ nerves are back on. Excitement more like, it’s prickling in his spine, making him grin. 

“So.” He says, clapping his hands once. “What now?”

“You just wait.” 

“What?” Louis’ head whips around. Harry is grinning, showing his teeth, dimple popped out. 

Louis’ glance turns to a glare, “What?” He repeats.

Harry shrugs, “It's a quickie. Just wait. Be right back.” And with that, Harry gets out of the car, closing his door carefully behind him and then he walks down the street, shoulders hunched, head lowered. Louis stares after him, watching his caramel hoodie disappear into the dark. 

Louis sits more upright to get a better look…but he literally can’t see anything but the cars parked in front of theirs and the street…which is empty. 

Pursing his lips, he cogitates about just getting out, excusing it by lighting a fresh cigarette. He doesn’t get that far, just placing his fingers on the handle, when in the next moment, the door swings open and Harry slides back into the driver's seat. 

“That…That’s it?” Louis asks as Harry slings his arm around the back of Louis’ seat and reverses the car. 

Speeding down the street, Harry smirks shortly at him. “Yeah ha-ha.” Shrugging, he makes a left turn. “Told ya it’s  _ easy _ .” 

“This wasn’t even a minute, mate.” Louis utters in discombobulation, “Don't you make small-talk or something?” 

“Did you talk to your dealer?” Harry interrogates back, pale profile shimmering in the grey moonlight. 

“Uh… _ yeah _ , actually, that’s how I met Zayn.” Rethinking, Louis backpedals. “ _ Well _ , it was in a club not on the streets.”

“See, that’s different. There was someone else waiting in the car across the road.” Harry clues him in, “That always sucks.”

“What now?” Louis says, folding his legs so they fit on the seat. “Another trip or what?” 

“Yeah, your turn,” Harry grins, “it’s weed again, no hard drugs on Mondays.” He does a little weird movement with his pouty lips, sticking them out, pressed together and rubbing them on the tip of his nose. “That’s a lie, but today there’s nothing more than a bit of weed.”

“Weed it is.” Louis shrugs. He’s glad it’s not more than that, for his first day and all.

“Check my phone, will ya?” Harry asks, nodding at his flip-phone placed in a little holder under the radio.

“Who has a fucking flip-phone?” Louis asks, reaching for the device. The light is dim and the numbers are big enough for old people to read without glasses. It takes a while for Louis to get to the messages, pressing the wrong buttons several times.

“Tell them, we meet in front of the cars-lot.” Harry says, “It's too late for anyone to be around.”

Louis nods absently, typing in the message and sending it with a wrinkled nose. He’s got some typos, but he hopes the guy will understand.

With a click it flips closed and he lays it back into the cup-holder.

“Here we are.” Harry says after a short moment, parking at the corner of a shut-down building, “Right across the street. There.” He points to a little parking lot outside a closed store, “Little old car, it’s a girl, her name’s Bianca.”

Not a guy, then.

“All right.” Louis says, taking the little plastic bag of weed. He can do this. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it duty, no worries whatsoever. “How much?”

“Forty.”

And with that, Louis is out of the car, walking quickly in the direction of the parking lot.

The aged car is effortless to find, it’s the only car two girls sit in, but there’s also music coming from the rolled-down windows.

The two smiling girls are already looking at him. He leans through the window, so he can see their faces better. “Y’all good?“ He asks, grinning.

“Yeah.” the girl in the driver's seat grins right back, “You?”

They exchange weed while making a bit more small-talk. He tries to stay casual, though his heart is jumping in excitement.

They give him two twenties without question and he gives them the weed with a low murmured, “have fun, ladies.” Then he turns around, walking back to Harry, who leans against the side of the bread van, fag an orange glimmer in the shadowed street.

“And?” he asks when Louis comes into earshot. “How was it?” He exhales, a coy smile on his lips like he already knows the answer.

Louis gives a half-shrug, trying to come across as unaffected and cool. He keeps an expressionless face for another second, before a shit-eating grin breaks out and he actually giggles, “All right, all right.” He says, bobbing his head. “Bianca has big eyes.”

Harry laughs quietly, “Innit? Blue, big-bug eyes.” Harry widens his own eyes with his spoken words.

Louis grabs the cigarette from Harry, taking a slow, long much-needed hit, all whilst holding eye-contact with Harry. Louis smirks around the fag, watching Harry wet his lips. 

Exhaling, he hands him the roll of tobacco back, licking his own lips, quick and moist.

“Where to now?” he beams.

“Oh look who’s enjoying himself.” Harry teases…wait this is teasing, right? No, no…not mocking, Louis can tell by the authentic, entertained twinkle in Harry's eyes. The dimple is out too, it looks like a little half-moon.

Stumping the cigarette out with his boot, Harry announces, “Guess that's it for tonight.”

“That's it?” Louis pouts — yes, he’s actually pouting. Because he is indeed enjoying himself. The excitement he hadn’t felt for so long has returned, letting his bones buzz with every beat of his heart and no, no he’s not willing to give it up…just yet. Not when Harry looks at him the way he does. “But…” He protests, “isn’t there, like, something else to do?”

“Nah,” Harry dismisses, serendipitous, “mostly it’s short notice, maybe after midnight or tomorrow before they go to work.” He’s swinging the open door like a wing, Louis watching it for moment, then he shrugs, feeling the excitement dim in his chest.

“Alright,” He glances up at the moon, “let’s get me home.”

Back in the car, the music is at a low volume. They don’t talk but the silence isn’t uncomfortable, it reminds Louis of the first time he was in a car with the curly-haired boy, but now it’s different. So much has changed between them.

“Are we friends now?” Louis whispers, almost hoping Harry won’t hear, but of course he does and sends him a curious glance. As Harry still isn’t answering, Louis fumbles with the radio, turning the volume louder. “I love this song.” It’s a song he’s never heard before but Louis feels flustered all over, because apparently they are not friends and maybe Harry was mocking him before and Louis was stupid enough to read all the smirks and laughs wrong.

Louis bobs his head off beat, slapping his thigh, all the while looking anywhere but at Harry.

Harry parks the car in front of Lottie’s little white house and Louis releases a relieved sigh.

Finally…

“Night, Harry,” He says over his shoulder, but before he can get the door to open, a hand holds him back and he turns, perplexed, to Harry.

“What?” He asks, bouncing his leg twice.

Harry shakes his head, smiling softly.

“We can be friends.” He says, slowly. “We can be anything.”

Louis sits shell-shocked, his mind as empty as his wallet. When Harry leans in and soft lips touch Louis’ cheek, he thinks he can feel his heart skip a beat. Curls tickle his nose and all he can do is inhale the smell of vanilla shampoo and sea salt. Swallowing, his lashes flutter.

It’s just a gentle peck, as short-lived as the drug deals, and when it’s over, Louis’ heart bounces hard against his ribcage. Lips part, eyes widen, a flush creeps up his neck.

What…what just happened?

He still can feel the lips on his cheek.

What…

Blinking, he takes Harry in, his cheeks are rosy, his shy eyes match his shy smile.

“Goodnight, Lou.”

Lou…

Right, that’s what every one of his friends and family calls him but hearing it from the same lips, the lips which have just pressed against his cheek…is…different, somehow.

Right, right.

Right.

Louis would love to slap himself out of this state he’s in, but that would be weird, so instead he swallows around the lump in his throat and breathes in.

“G-goodnight,” Louis stammers, still caught off guard. “Yeah, night Harry, see you. Get home, safe, will ya?” Shit, he’s rambling, shit. Stop talking idiot. “Sleep tight. Yeah, sweet dreams.” He needs… he needs to get out of this fucking car, right the fuck now.  

Harry chuckles, softly. In this moment, everything about him is soft, from the way his locks frame his sharp face, the tips of his hair just curling along the strong jawline, the way his eyes reflect the little light coming from the car above them, the way his skin is a milky white in the moonlight, his soft pink lips formed into a little shy smile, his lips that are so soft, and now that Louis’s found that out, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

There is a moment of silence after Louis’ rambling. Louis’ heart must be the only sound in the car. He is sure Harry can hear it too.

Harry arches his brows lightly, “I will, thank you.” The smile turns into a coy smirk as Louis fumbles with the handle to get out of the fucking car.

Embarrassment is now colouring his cheeks, as it takes three desperate tries to get the bloody door open, and with wobbly knees, his feet land on the ground. Without glancing back, he shuts the door firmly.

Harry’s car rattles when he drives away.

Louis stares at his shoes for a long, long time before mustering up the strength to get his legs to working again. What. The. Hell.

  
  


*   *   *

 

Louis can’t stop thinking about Harry Styles, the local drug dealer with green eyes, dimples and curls like an angel, had kissed his cheek last night. It’s embarrassing to admit, especially since it had been nothing more than a soft, quick peck. 

Louis is sure that he is in some sort of shock. He needs help, he needs to call emergency services or something because he should not be this stunned about it. Maybe it was all the excitement and nerves that are messing with his head, making his heart shudder when he repeats Harry’s words on loop in his chaotic mind.

_ We can be friends, we can be anything. _

_ We can be friends, we can be anything. _

_ We can be friends, we can be any- _

“Stop.” He says to the ceiling he’s been staring at since he woke up from a restless night. “Harry didn’t mean it like that.” Groaning, he presses his cheek further into the pillow. “You just want to be friends with him anyway.” He continues, “You don’t even  _ like _ him.” Blinking against the low light that filters through the guest room, he groans again. “You’ve only  _ known _ him for a week.” 

And apparently Louis is talking to himself now. That’s a new low, even for Louis.

“He’s being mean.”  Louis nods to himself, trying to get his thoughts to a final stop, “He's just…having a  _ laugh _ .”

His leg twitches, his toes wiggle, “Don't be daft. Once you’ve got the money, you’ll only see him when you’re with Lara.”

Right.

The ringtone of his phone startles him. He had forgotten that on Sunday he’d turned it back on after Harry told him he’d send him a message about when they were going to meet up. That’s how he’d found out Harry's last name as well - Harry had saved himself in his contacts as ‘Styles’. After Louis made a joke that his style is extravagant but he shouldn’t be as extra to call himself Styles, Harry awkwardly explained that it’s his last name.

That very name is being played on the screen of his phone.

Louis frowns, checking the clock.

It’s 9 am.

He slides his thumb across the display, accepting the call as he breathes, “’ello?”

“What’s the best thing about living in Switzerland?”

Louis blinks, “What?”

“I don’t know, but the flag is a big plus.” Harry laughs then and Louis, he can’t stop the grin that’s spreading across his face. As Harry calms down, Louis chuckles quietly, because…what?

“I’m confused, Harry.”

“It’s a joke.” He explains, “Y'know, on the flag of Switzerland there is that big…white plus?”

“Oh my God.” Louis groans, giggling. “What did I do to deserve waking up to bad jokes?”

“It’s  _ funny _ .”

“It’s  _ not _ .”

“Hey,” Harry pouts through the speaker and Louis grins wider, toes wiggling and heart pounding.

“So?” Louis prompts, “Whatcha calling me for?”

“What, can’t I call you randomly?”

That seems unlikely, so Louis waits, listening to Harry’s even breathing and pressing his phone closer to his ear.

“Well, okay.” Harry says, “Not really random, then…” Louis’ eyes flutter shut and he sighs.

“What’s up?” Louis isn’t sure why he is feeling disappointment bloom in his chest.

“Are you alone?”

“It’s 9 AM, what you think?”

Harry chuckles, “All right, all right.”

“Are you gonna…tell me?” Louis coaxes, after a long few seconds of silence.

“Right, so there is…this drug deal.” Right, yeah, of course. “It's a little bit bigger this time?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Shut up.” Harry says without heat, “It’s in…Manchester.”

“Oh,” Louis frowns, lips pursed.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna pick you up in…”

“Wait.” Louis interrupts, “I…what’d I tell Lottie?”

“Dunno?” Harry draws the word in its length, Louis can almost hear the raising of Harry’s eyebrows through the line.

“Okay, Manchester. Yeah…I’m gonna walk to yours, okay?” Louis had an idea that could actually work, so yeah, yeah…brilliant. Okay. “When?”

“Two hours?”

“What’s there to do so early?”

“Things…stuff…have you ever been to Manchester?”

“Yes,” Louis lies, “I’m there all the time, it’s my second home.”

“Right, I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not, but either way. At mine, in two hours. Wear something nice.”

“Harry—” Louis interjects the fast rumble but he’s spoken over.

“Don’t be late.” - And the fucker hangs up.

Louis stares blankly at his phone.

What the hell?

After spending another half a minute dumbfounded on the bed, he shakes himself out of it. Dragging his palm across his face, pressing the heel of it against his nose, he closes his eyes.

“What am I getting myself into?” He mutters.

Another moment passes, then Louis swings his legs over the edge of the bed, heaving a sigh.

The shower manages to wake him up completely, the cold water splashing on his face, down his torso, and pooling at his feet. Shampoo, body scrub, inhale, exhale, and finally, turning the water off, he steps out of the shower. While he rubs the towel on random parts of his body, trying half-heartedly to become dry, he opens the little cabinet. Eyes roam over the little bottles until he finds the painkillers.

He pops four in his mouth, swallowing them dry before closing it again with a soft click.

Returning to his room, Louis actually spends time picking out his outfit. Which means, he digs through his closet like a dog digging a hole in the ground. Shirts and pants fly left and right, landing silently on the floor.

Humming, he wiggles his fingers, looking for one of his favourite shirts, not just a random one. Pursing his lips he scratches his neck, Louis is sure he’d packed it. It has to be here, in this very closet.

Goddamnit.

“Aha!” He exclaims, getting on his tiptoes, reaching to the back corner. There, pressed in the back, is the wrinkled shirt he’s been looking for. It’s his favourite, so to say. Louis owns a lot favourites, left half of it in London, but not this one, though he never thought he’d need it here.

Anyway, pulling the softest of fabrics over his head and adjusting it, tucking it in place, he turns to the mirror, brushing his hair off his forehead.

It’s gotten a bit loose, he notices while making a half swirl to each side. The red rose on the chest pocket becomes a blur in front of his eyes when he turns a bit faster. However, it still fits, and that’s all that matters. He pulls on some skin-tight washed out jeans and rolls them up at the ankles, so his triangle tattoo is visible. It was his first tattoo; he got it a week after graduating college.

Pursing his lips, he slips into clean white Vans to finish the look off.  

Turning back to the mirror, he narrows his eyes at what he sees. He pouts at the mess that is his hair. He never really was good with his hair, never knows what to do with it, so most of the time he leaves it be. He doesn’t want to do that today though. Brushing his fingers through it, it sticks up. He presses it back down and rolls his eyes.

There is only one person who could help.

“Lottie!” Louis calls, sticking his head out of the door. “ _Lottie!_ ”

“ _What?_ ” She calls back.

Small smile on his lips, he calls out once more. “Come up, will ya?”

And sure enough his sister walks up the stairs, he’d raised her well.

“What d’you—” She stops, when she sees him, blue eyes going wide. “Who  _ are _ you?”  

“Geez, thanks.” Louis says with a roll of his own eyes. “Can you help me, please?”  

“You look like a human being.” She lets out with a whistle, then her eyes do a weird thing, like they squirm or summat, she has a suspicious glint in them now. Louis doesn't like it. “What’s going on?” 

“Going to Manchester,” Louis answers, leaning against the doorframe, going for a casual look. “Having a closer look at the Uni…and their summer classes, whatever.” He shrugs, at least he’s not full on lying, right? That counts for something. 

“Oh,” Lottie face lights up, “that's great! Any ideas yet?” 

Louis wrinkles his nose, “Yoga?” 

Lottie laughs and he joins her a moment later, “Alright, what can I do for you?” 

“My hair,” Louis bats his lashes at her prettily, “please.” 

“Yeah it’s a disaster, dear. C’mon,” 

Twenty minutes later, his hair is done in a cinnamon-roll. At least, that’s what Lottie called it after she’d finished with him. “Looking like this, you don’t even need to pay.” She gushes, kissing his temple before stepping back. 

“Thanks Lots,” he says, eyeing himself up and down in the mirror — he’s looking good. Handsome, even.

He embraces her in a short side-hug. 

“D’you need us to drive you?“ She asks, when they part. 

His whole body freezes, full on. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“No, uh…Liam, remember? He’s a friend of Lara? Yeah, he’s a student there, gonna drive me and all.”

Lottie - bless her — does not notice the lie, instead her smile widens. “I’m glad you’re making friends.” She turns and heads back downstairs and Louis…Louis feels fucking  _ guilty _ . 

Staring after her, though she’s out of his line of view, he blinks a couple of times. It's not like he can tell her the fucking truth, is it? “Hey Lots, so y’know about Manchester…not sure what’s going to happen there, but I know I’ll be with Harry…yeah the Drug Dealer and y’know what? Super hilarious but I’m gonna sell drugs too! Yeah, don’t worry about it.” 

No, thank you. 

If honesty brings punishment, he’s sticking to lying. 

Nodding to himself, he goes back into his room, checking the clock that tells him he’s late. 

Pocketing his phone, he leaves, walking down the stairs and calling out a quick goodbye, not wanting to be stopped, before the front door slams shut behind him. 

  
  


*   *   *

 

“Gummy bears or chocolate bar?” Harry asks, holding both options right under Louis' nose. 

“Gummy bears,” Louis says, tilting his head from side to side, “and chocolate bars?” 

Harry snorts, “Sounds good.” Rounding the aisle, he throws Louis another brief glance before paying. 

Louis shifts his weight, looking around the little petrol station. Listening to Harry making small talk with the cashier, he worries a bit about all the drugs that are stocked up in the car. It’s a lot; cocaine, pills, weed, everything that’s fun and promises a good time. How can Harry be so calm about this? There are only two little windows, Louis knows, and the shit is in the back, buried beneath layers and layers of blankets, hidden in a suitcase, to be exact. But still… 

“Catch!” 

Louis has about three-seconds to blink back into the present, for him to catch the pack of gummy bears that come flying his way. Cuddling them to his chest he grins up at Harry, “Ace, thanks.” 

Turning to leave the store, he’s met with his very worst nightmare. 

“Morning boys,” Says a chubby man, tipping his police hat as he holds the door open for them.

“Hey.” Harry waves easily at the man. “How’s it going Robin?” 

“All good, there was a break-in just down the road, stole Mrs. Collins jewellery.” He shakes his head sadly, “But we’re on it.” 

“Oh no, I’m sorry.” Harry says sincerely, “Hope she’s all right.” 

Louis’ eyes flicker between the police officer and Harry, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He clears his throat, holding the pack of gummy bears tighter. “Uh, Harry…”

Both of them turn his way. 

“Oh who’s this?”The man says, not unkindly, “You're new, aren’t ya?” He laughs shortly, it sounding like a bark. 

“Uh…”

“Yeah, just moved in with his sister.” Harry answers for him, “Gonna have a look at the University, aren’t we, Lou?” Smiling, he elbows Louis in the ribs. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Louis says quickly, scrunching up his nose, “’s gonna be fun.” 

“Nice, well, boys, I’ll see ya around.” Officer Robin tips his head in salute, Louis and Harry say their own goodbyes and then they are back outside, breathing in the smell of petrol and summer. 

Louis heaves a sigh, watching Harry round and unlock the car. “How can you be so…calm?”

Knitting his brows together like he’s not understanding what Louis means, he sends him a quick glance before getting into the car without answering…this isn’t the first time he’s done this and Louis is getting annoyed.

Sliding into the passenger seat himself, he fixes Harry with a stare, hoping to make the other boy feel uncomfortable, which doesn’t seem to happen because Harry just starts the motor and they are back on the street, picking up speed the moment they are out of town.

“Harry.” Louis says.

“Louis.”

Rolling his eyes, he sighs and busies himself with opening the packet that’s laying in his lap. Wiggling his fingers above the opening, he purses his lips. Red or white? Or yellow? He picks a couple of green ones instead and pops them in his mouth. Chewing, he looks out of the window.

This is not a good start. Maybe he’s dreamed all the pleasant conversations and smiles. Looking back at it, Louis always had been kind of high, yeah? Adrenaline is a high too, so that could it be…it’s all just in his head. This weird tug-of-war game with Harry is getting old.

“Gimme a red one.” Harry says, glancing at Louis before bringing his attention back to the road.

“Nah,” Louis mumbles, sucking on a yellow one. It gets stuck on his teeth and when he swallows he can literally feel it creeping down his dry throat. He wrinkles his nose at the feeling.

“I bought them.” Harry argues, trying to reach blindly into the packet, failing and slapping at Louis' thigh instead.

Louis snatches the gummy bears away, holding them near the window. “So?”

“Please, Lou?” Harry turns to him, a pout on his plump lips, puppy eyes on full display.

It shouldn’t be such a sight, honestly.

Louis shakes his head, but he feels himself giving in. Harry can see it too because he pops out his dimple. The fucker.

“No.” Louis says in an attempt to be stern.  

“No?” Harry laughs, the sound pleasant in the car.

“Don’t give me the dimple.”

Harry’s grin only widens, and the dimple deepens and Louis - well, he picks out the red gummy bears. It’s a stupid fight anyway.

“Here ya go.” Louis lets them fall one by one into Harry’s outstretched palm, without noticing how large his hand is, of course. It's not like he's known that fact before.

“Not only bought them but had to fight for those fuckers too.” Harry mutters, biting in one.

Louis snorts, “Enjoy.”

Watching Harry's jaw work for another second, he picks out a red gummy bear for himself.

“So, Louis Tomlinson…”

“You got my name right, bonus points to you.” Louis interjects.

“Good to know we’ve got a point system rolling.” Harry says, driving past a green car. Louis gazes at it, unable to decide if the colour is too extravagant or just ugly. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Me too,” Louis agrees absently, bringing his attention to the radio and fumbling with the buttons until he picks up a song he actually knows and enjoys. He hums, pleased.

“Oh yeah?” Harry asks, laughter in his deep voice.  

“Yeah.”

“So how ‘bout we gonna make a little competition out of tonight.”

Louis eyes Harry’s side-profile.

“Like what?”

“Like…who sells the most drugs.”

Blinking, Louis ponders over it. He’s never done that before, so it’s already a challenge itself, but he shouldn’t make a bad job out of it…right? Losing against Harry would be humiliating, and Harry does this for a living, he’s like an expert in selling happiness.

“What’s the price?”

“Loser dyes their hair…pink.”

“Lame.” Louis rolls his eyes dismissively, because seriously? That’s the best he’s got? He expected more from Harry, at least something more dangerous…like stealing something from a store.

“Are you sure? Because I bet you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Well, then you’ve got nothing to worry about, right?” Louis says…he’s throwing the words out, as if he’s confident that he’ll win, which is a complete lie, he’s sure he’s going to lose, and badly. But Harry doesn't know that, so…yeah whatever.

“Running down the hallway naked?”

Louis considers it for a moment, and cocking his head to the side, he flashes a grin at Harry.

“Breaking into the neighbours house.” He hushes as if somebody other than Harry might hear him, watching Harry's eyebrows fly up to his hairline. Louis chuckles. He hadn’t seen that one coming, huh?

“What?” Harry barks a surprised laugh, loud and sudden in the quiet car. “No way, c’mon. Are you  _ serious _ ?”

Louis shrugs again, “Yeah.”

“Lara is your neighbour.”

“We’ve got two neighbours.”

“Right.”

“So, you in?” Wiggling his brows, he smirks at Harry.

“And you were worried about the fucking policeman at the petrol station.” Harry clicks his tongue, “This can actually put us in jail.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna steal anything.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to consider it and Louis can tell when he’s made his decision, a mischievous smile matching his own grin.

Harry pins him with a too intense, too mirthful gaze.

“All right, I’m in.”

In favour of shaking hands, they share the rest of the gummy bears.

 

*   *   *

 

Louis doesn’t know what he’d expected from the trip to Manchester, but being ditched by Harry the moment they arrived at the dorms wasn’t it. 

He can do nothing more but gape at the open door, which Harry’s just left through with a cheeky, “Don't do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

He didn't say when he’d be back, what he’s doing or why Louis was dragged along with him in the first place if Harry had no interest in spending time with him. 

Louis knows it’s ridiculous to be hurt over something like that, because Harry hadn't said anything about spending the day together, only the party tonight and the drug selling. 

At least, thank fuck, Liam and Zayn are here too, huddled together on the twin-sized bed in Liam’s dorm room. 

Louis turns to them. “Is he always like this?” He asks, sitting down on the messy floor, t-shirts laying around, comic book…and a hair brush. Well, he’s not the neatest person either, he has no room to judge, but still... he kicks a pair of pants away from him, hoping they aren't used. 

Zayn shrugs, sleepily blinking down at him, “Yeah.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Liam says, as Louis bites his lip. 

“Maybe we should smoke.” Zayn mutters, “I’m up for it.” 

Louis shrugs, nodding a moment later but Liam shakes his head.

“I’ve got a class in like…ten minutes.” He says, checking the clock on the desk next to the bed. “But you guys go ahead.”

Zayn and Louis grin at each other and Louis watches on as the black haired boy scrambles off the bed and stumbles to the desk, opening a drawer and getting a container out.

Straight to work, Zayn sits down on the chair, spreading the weed on the little white paper, rolling and licking it. When he’s done, he’s doing another one. Quick and careful fingers hand Louis the rolled-up spliff and he sits down on the bed, just as Liam gets up from it. 

“Bye.” He pecks Zayn’s lips and with a wave at Louis, he’s out of the door, backpack slung over one strong shoulder. 

Zayn joins Louis on the sheets, lighting their joints and balancing an ashtray on his thigh. 

“Sooo…Louis,” he exhales, “how are you holding up?”

Louis coughs on his own drag, unable to keep in his giggles. He waves his hand through the smoke that’s burning his eyes. Relaxing back against the hard wall, he peeks at Zayn. “You worried ‘bout me?”

“Always am, nothin’ changed.” Zayn responds, his voice relaxing to Louis' ears, familiar and warm. “Saved yer arse too many times not to be, innit?” 

“I should be worried about you.” Louis scoffs. “Hiding out in the dorms n’ all.” 

They both take another hit and Louis can feel the weed settling in his veins, making his head a bit dizzy. 

The situation is so messed up it’s funny. Hilarious, ridiculous, if you think about it. Zayn Malik has to fucking  _ hide _ , so his pretty face stays the way it is. Louis laughs, finding it hard to believe how the tables have turned, Zayn depending on  _ his _ arse now, not the other way around. Damn. 

“’S not so bad.” Zayn mumbles, smoke leaving the corner of his pretty mouth, “At least I get to be with Liam.” 

“How did ya guys meet anyway?” 

Zayn grins slowly, blinking lazily, “Uni party, his first year here.” Zayn leans more into Louis, and with his head placed on Louis’ shoulder, he chuckles, “Y'know, before I went to London, I used to be in Manchester, so yeah…y’know. Met him at this party.” 

“At a party?”

“Uni-party.”

“Because he’s in Uni?” 

“Yeeaahh…was his first year here.” 

Louis frowns, he feels like he’s heard that before. 

“At Uni?” He asks. 

Zayn giggles, “Yeah…at a party.” 

“Wait.” Louis blinks, “Who was at the party?” 

“I was…” 

“What did you do there?”

“Met Liam there.” 

Oh, yeah that makes sense, since Liam studies at University and all. Louis grins loosely.

“How did you meet Harry?” Louis asks, after a moment of just smoking. 

“Through Simon,” 

“Who’s Simon?” 

“Satan,” Zayn hushes, leaning closer. His eyes are wide thanks to the influence of the marijuana, the whites slowly turning red. “We can’t call him by his real name.” 

“So, Simon isn’t his actual name?” 

Zayn looks up at Louis. “How d’you know his name?” 

“Didn’t you just say his name?” 

Zayn frowns, mulling it over. “No?”

“Still... who is he?” 

“Satan.”

Louis blinks, confused and probably too high for this conversation. “Like…the  _ actual _ Satan? Has he got horns on top of his head and stuff?” 

Zayn finds that apparently  _ hilarious _ , because a moment later he’s shaking with laughter, Louis isn’t sure what’s so funny but he’s laughing along. Suddenly, everything is funny and doesn’t make sense and he wheezes, feeling light and warm and he really missed Zayn. 

Wiping tears from his cheeks, he calms down with a great inhale, chuckling. 

This is the best weed he has ever smoked. 

“I’m hungry.” Louis announces, rubbing circles on his growling stomach. 

“I think Liam’s stocked up on bananas.” 

“Mewh,” Louis sticks out his tongue in disgust, the corner of his mouth turned down. “I want skittles.” 

“We don’t have those.” Zayn informs him with a pout, blinking as he sighs, “ _ But _ . I think the kiosk sells them.” 

“Great, need a new pack of cigs, too.” Louis says, pleased. 

“After a nap?” Zayn blinks sleepily. 

“Yeah, after a nap,” Louis agrees around his yawn. 

 

*   *   *

 

Louis is surrounded by pissed humans, students, all his age, some a bit older, some a bit younger and still they act all the same. They drink, they laugh and they dance on a Tuesday night in a little cramped flat that belongs to some bloke named Mick. 

Zayn is by his side, Liam’s getting another refill of his vodka-coke and Louis is blissed out of his mind, feeling good with where he is and the company he’s in. One person is missing and that makes the whole occasion not as fun as it could be. 

Harry didn’t show up at the dorms, even after Louis and Zayn went out for some crap food and went back to the room, smoked another joint and had a second nap until Liam woke them up. 

The front pockets of Louis' jeans — and the back pockets too, are filled with packs of pills and cocaine, he pats them now and sure enough, they are still where he put them. He’s unsure if he should just…start selling or wait for Harry to magically make an appearance. 

So far, Harry hasn't called or messaged him and Louis tries not to worry. 

“Zayn,” Louis leans closer to the boy, so he can be heard over the loud music. As he got the attention he wanted, dark eyes locking with his, he makes a gesture towards the hiding place of the drugs, and Zayn laughs. He gets it though and shakes his head, making a waving movement with his own hand, as if to say, “Just, go at it.” 

Which is unhelpful, really, because do you just go around asking people if they want…drugs? 

This could end badly, what if there is some nuns in here or nerds and they go and rat him out, call the police… is he gonna end up back in jail? Would his Mum find out? For her to — whatever she would do then. Maybe run him over with her shiny new car. 

Anyway…

Looking around and fixing his first victim, buyer, junkie? It’s a girl, sitting on the couch looking a bit lonely, staring down at her drink. 

Well, well. 

Raising an interested eyebrow, Louis ambles over to her, plopping down casually on the sofa. He slings his arm over the rest, fingers tapping in a nervous rhythm before he presses his palm flat against the material. 

“Having a good time?” He asks, leaning in. 

The girl startles and lets her drink fall to the ground.

“Oh, shit.” Louis breathes, grabbing it and placing it on the coffee table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, no worries.” The girl squeaks, running a hand through her dark blue hair, big brown eyes meeting his. “It was empty anyway.” Shrugging, she eyes him, arching a brow, and now that the shock has disappeared, she looks closed off.

“Why don’t we change that?” Louis grins, showing his teeth. “What’s your name, love?”

Sitting up straighter, she turns fully towards him, her very pink lips forming a crooked smile. Maybe Louis isn’t as bad at flirting as he thought.

“Ivana,” she says, licking her lips, “and you are…”

“Louis, hi.” He continues before she can. “So Ivana, you up for a good time or what?”

“I don’t do threesomes.” She blurts out, brown eyes even wider and so earnest. Louis can’t hold back his laughter.

“Who offers threesomes?” Louis asks, still chuckling.

“Oh.” Ivana frowns, “What is it then?”

“How about a bit of…snow?” He asks, carefully, eyes darting away from her for a second to make sure no one is overhearing this, before he raises an eyebrow at her. “Or some happy pills? I think they’ve got even smileys on them.”

Ivana sizes him up for a moment, pondering over the offer in her head. It takes her thirty-seconds to answer, and Louis knows this because he’s been counting in his head, trying to keep calm, deciding that he’d make a run for it if she hadn’t said anything when a minute was up.

“Oh, oh!” She exclaims, sudden excitement lighting up her face, slapping his arm along to both of her high oh’s. “I wanna…“ she makes grabby-hands.

Louis smirks, getting the shit out of his jeans, giving her a discrete (or so he hopes) pack of coke. She pulls some money out of her purse, and he takes it with another flash of his smile.

She accepts the little package, biting her lip. Louis isn’t sure if he should stay or go. But sitting next to her is not a real option in his head, when he thinks about it. He’d rather go around, now that his first deal went pleasantly well.

“Ace, have a good time, love.” He says, getting up, double checking the couch in case something fell out.

“Thanks. Laters.” She smiles up at him.

Back by Zayn’s side, he’s grinning, feeling high himself, though the weed wore off long ago. “Ea-sy,” Louis singsongs, hip-checking Zayn.

Zayn shakes his head, giving him an amused smile but stays mute otherwise, just sipping his drink.

After the first little drug deal, there is a second and a third… and suddenly, it’s past midnight and Louis has a drink in his hand and he’s talking to a bunch of strangers that are hanging on his every word and Louis smiles, feeling powerful and on top of the world. He could get used to this.

He’s just discussing the latest Manchester United game when he feels someone standing close to his back, hot breath tickling the soft baby hairs on his neck.

“Enjoying yourself?” The husky voice makes Louis swallow, goosebumps raising on his skin where it’s naked and clothed.

Already smiling, he turns around, abandoning the guy he’s been talking to. Harry’s hand is next to Louis' head, his outstretched arm caging Louis in, so he can’t do anything but look up in Harry’s smirking face.

“Well, look who showed up.” Louis says, raising a brow. “Tad too late to be fashionably late, don’t you think?”

Harry gives a single-shoulder shrug, pulling the corner of his lips downward for a second, as to say, ‘Yeah, whatever.’

Louis can feel his own grin widen, “Where have you been?”

Again, Harry shrugs. “Places.”

Though Harry is smiling, Louis blinks as he notes how puffy his eyes are. “Have you been smoking?”

“Just a little bit.” Harry presses his thumb and index together, “I’m still good to drive.”

That hadn’t been Louis’ first concern - he thought perhaps Harry had been crying. Harry crying, which…why would he anyway? So perhaps Louis is a bit drunk and Harry is a bit high and did not cry.

“Sold most of the drugs.” Louis hushes, stepping closer to Harry just so the boy can hear him better, of course.

“Good, good.” Harry says, green eyes flickering over the crowd. There are still a lot of students present. Some are passed-out on the sofa, some still dancing on the rug and others sticking their heads together in the corner of the living room. Louis follows Harry's gaze, seeing Ivana leaning against the wall, a girl plastered to her front.

“First buyer,” Louis nods towards Ivana, whose eyes are closed whilst the other girl kisses along her neck. “Sweet girl.”

Harry nods, biting his lip. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Frowning, Louis snaps his attention back to Harry, “Whatcha mean?”

Harry shrugs again. Never answering; never giving anything away. Louis should be used to it by now but he isn’t. He is confused, that’s what he is. It’s too late and Louis is getting sleepy, so he lets it drop without asking any more questions that he knows won’t be answered anyway and steps out Harry’s arm-body cage.

Just when he’s halfway to the kitchen, the ‘DJ’ announces a new song — a song Louis  _ loves _ . First stopping then swirling around to face Harry again, his confusion is forgotten, replaced by queasy excitement. “Come dance with me.” He says, not thinking about it at all and holding out his hand for Harry to take.

Harry arches his brows in bewildered amusement, and they look at each other for two beats, long enough for Louis to fear that Harry will laugh and turn away, but then he takes Louis’ hand, their fingers slotting together seamlessly, fitting and warm.

Louis leads them to the middle of the improvised dance floor, feeling Harry’s chest flush against his back, and that alone makes his breath hitch in his throat. His neck prickles. When they are surrounded by other couples grinding and dancing, he turns around with a big, last inhale.

Harry grins down at him, and Louis beams right back. Harry untangles their fingers, just long enough for him to press a hand to Louis' lower back and pull him closer.

Louis stops thinking altogether when their chests line up, and Harry slots their hips together. They start moving to the beat of the pop-song. Louis’ hands find their way to Harry’s neck on their own and Harry holds him tightly around the waist.

If it's possible, Harry’s strong arms bring them even closer, looping now around Louis' middle, and then he presses his face in the crook of Louis’ neck and Louis is not only blank-minded but he feels like he’s also stopped breathing. He’s scared Harry will pull away any second if he does so much as exhale.

Louis hears Harry's soft inhale against his ear, and the knowledge that Harry is…smelling him makes him flush beet-red. He feels hotter than minutes ago.  

Sweat dampens his neck, making his skin sticky, his perfectly styled hair anything but admirable by now.

Harry’s hands hold him tight, almost clinging to him while their hips move, their crotches pressed together, sending tiny sparks through Louis' spine until they become waves of desperate, needy pleasure. It’s not enough but at the same time too much and he’s not sure if he should move away from the touch or grind against Harry.

In the end, Louis doesn’t have to choose, because the song changes to Mr. Brightside by The Killers and Harry squeaks right in his ear, making it ring. He pushes Louis from him, and before Louis can react, he’s being pulled back by Harry’s hand and then…Harry is actually swirling him under his arm.

Laughing out a bubbly sound, Louis throws his head in his neck, spinning, once, twice, then he's close enough to Harry for him to be pushed back and pulled in once more. His mind spins with it and he laughs, laughs, laughs until he can feel tears coming out of his eyes. He can’t even blame it on that one drink he’s had.

Harry grins at him when they are face to face, a gentle hand pressed to Louis' waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of Louis' shirt.

They don’t repeat the grinding, they don’t move their hips together, but they still dance. Dance and touch and Louis couldn’t ask for more because this is fun. So much  _ fun _ . Harry’s sparkling eyes are locked with his, while his lips mouth the lyrics to a song Louis’ never heard before. Wild curls frame his face, falling into his eyes, bouncing on his cheek, with every jump.

They are in their little bubble of laughter and grins and flushed skin, Louis’ gaze fixed only on Harry, so much so that he’d forgotten there is a world around them, still. A song later, he’s ripped out of the pleasant warm bubble of HarryandLouis, when someone taps his shoulder. It makes him stop in his tracks.

Raising his eyebrows, he turns and looks into the same pair of brown eyes he looked into at the beginning of the party.

“Yeah?” He asks impatiently when Ivana just stares at him.

“Oh, right,” Ivana glances left and right, and seeing nobody but Harry is paying attention anyway, she leans in, whispering in his ear, “you’ve got some leftovers?” Leaning back again, she wiggles with her eyebrows.

“Uh...” Louis throws a look over his shoulder, but Harry is not there anymore. “Sure,” He says absently, eyes roaming over the bunch of people. “Ran out of coke, still got some pills left though.”

“That’ll do just fine.” She nods, holding open her palm.

Getting three pills out of the little pack, he takes the money from her.

“Have fun.” Louis says, forcing a smile.

The moment her back is turned to him, his smile drops and he glances over the crowd, the curly head nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment pooling in his stomach and stupid sadness filling his chest, he saunters over to Zayn, he’s just opened his mouth to ask, but the boy quickly nods towards the kitchen, a knowing glint in the amber-brown of his eyes.

The kitchen is empty by now, with just Harry leaning against the counter, fingers holding a cup of water tighter than necessary.

“What’s up?” Louis asks, leaning against the cooking island, opposite Harry.

“Just needed a moment.”

Louis heaves a great sigh. “Spill.” It’s too late, Louis is too tired for Harry’s games. Never giving a proper answer. Always disappearing into thin air, like some mysterious character in a classic book.

Harry shrugs, looking down in his cup, he wrinkles his nose and pours the rest of his water into the sink.

“We should go.” He mutters.

“Whatever.” Louis grits through his teeth, annoyed.

Harry sends him a look, but doesn’t say anything.

Instead, to Louis' surprise, shock, whatever, Harry takes his hand, leading him out of the kitchen towards the door. Without saying goodbye to anyone, they leave, steps echoing in the hallway, jogging down the stairs like they are on the run. Louis doesn’t ask why they’re hurrying, he just follows.

The moment they breathe in fresh night air, Harry lets go of him, striding in the direction towards the parked car.

“What the hell is your deal?” Louis calls, spreading his arms.

Harry doesn’t stop, of course not.

Louis jogs, then runs after him.

He catches up with Harry just as he pulls out the keys to unlock the fucking car. Louis pulls him back by his arm, and when their eyes meet, Louis' throat closes up.

Louis has no time to react to Harry’s sad expression, because a moment later Harry leans in, pressing his lips against Louis’, keys clattering to the ground.

The kiss deepens immediately, tongues slotting together through parted lips. It’s heated and wet, and Louis can’t hear anything but blood rushing in his ears. Hands grab his shirt desperately, pulling him closer and closer until they are pressed together just like on the dance floor. Burying his own hands in Harry’s hair, he stands on his tiptoes.

Harry spins them around, pressing Louis against the side of the car. Louis pants when they part and Harry kisses along his jawline, nipping at his skin, sending waves of pleasure down Louis' spine until his head is fuzzy and every drop of his blood is flowing south. The world around them turns into a blur of nothing, just like on the dance floor.

Louis is glad for the death-grip Harry has on him, because his knees turned to jelly the moment their lips smacked together and the solid car door behind him giving him hold as well, it kind of hurts, it kind of feels like he’s in another universe. He lets a weak moan escape his lips.

“Harry,” he breathes, “Harry.” Louis doesn’t know what he wants from the other boy. Doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to drag it out either, because…he doesn’t  _ understand _ . Has no idea what this  _ means _ , why Harry is kissing him, sucking a mark on his neck. It feels so much like possessive behaviour, when he sinks his teeth in the spot. It sends all emotions flying out of Louis' body, only leaving lust and want and need behind.

Resting his head back on the edge of the roof of the car, he stares up to the sky, black, endless and beautiful. 

He never wants this night, this moment, to end. 

It does though, because nothing but the sky is forever. 

Harry leans back, hooded eyes locking with his own. He looks just as breathless and overwhelmed as Louis himself. Cheeks a rosy-pink, lips plump and swollen red, hair sticking up in every possible direction, Harry is a sight, a beautiful, beautiful mess. 

A fallen angel who has lost his wings along the way but the magic is still in his veins, making him glow brighter, somehow. 

“Lou.” He says, pleads, asks, begs? Louis has no idea what Harry wants, has no idea how to find out because he’s lost his voice a long time ago. 

Breathing out, he frames Harry’s face with unsteady hands. The boy leans into the touch, making Louis' heart skip a beat, and it stops altogether when he kisses Louis’ palm. 

“Take me away from here.” He murmurs, kissing Louis' thumb next, as it ghosts over his lower lip. 

Bringing his gaze away from Harry’s lips and up to his eyes, Louis swallows desperately around the lump that closes his deserted throat.

“Yeah…” He rasps quietly, blinking his heavy lids. “Let's go home.” His hands fall from Harry’s face, and he gulps, already missing the contact. 

Louis is driving and Harry is curled in on himself on the passenger seat, forehead resting against the window. 

The silence is awkward between them, thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions. They all lay heavy on the tip of Louis' tongue. It’s not from the kiss, Louis thinks, turning onto the motorway. No, it’s from it all. Harry ditching him, showing up late, the dancing, ditching him again and  _ then _ …the kiss. 

The Kiss.

It had happened minutes ago, Louis' lips still feeling raw from it, puffy and swollen. His skin burns where Harry touched him, sucked the spot on his neck, licked it with his pink tongue, making Louis moan and choke at nothing but thin air. 

Yeah, so they should talk. Louis knows that Harry probably won’t want to talk about it at all, and Louis also is sure they won’t mention it tomorrow, pretending instead that it didn’t happen. 

They won’t talk about any of this and it makes Louis come down from the rush far quicker than he dares to admit. His knuckles clench around the steering wheel. 

Opening his mouth and closing it again, he passes a car, speeding up. Somehow he’s glad he’s driving, at least he’s got something to do, something to concentrate on other than his sinking heart that aches with every beat. 

He peeks over at Harry, and his heart stops when he locks eyes with him. Harry’s been watching him for awhile, it feels like. Harry smiles tiredly. 

Leaning his back against the door, he props his boots on Louis' seat, the tips pressing into Louis' outer thigh. 

“Y’know,” Harry says with a monotonous voice. “Ivana is Lara’s girlfriend.” 

Three cars pass until suddenly, the words catch up with Louis and  _ yeah _ , it is a good thing he is driving. “What?” He asks, slightly confused, because of all things Louis had expected, it wasn’t that, “She kissed that other girl.” 

Harry snorts unamused, sitting normally in his seat again. “Saw that.” 

“Are we…” Louis clears his throat, eyes fixed on the dark road. “Are we gonna tell Lara?”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, silence stretching out for so long that Louis thinks he won’t get an answer, but then Harry chuckles darkly, “I don’t know.” He breathes out a long and suffering sigh, “We're her friends though. Lara loves Ivana a lot.”

Sadness makes his heart clench. Shaking his head, he grips the steering wheel tighter. “Maybe we should give Ivana a chance to…y’know tell her herself?”

“I could never do something like Ivana.” Harry says absently instead of answering, “Never.” He looks out of the window.

“Same,” Louis agrees, then frowns, “well, I’ve never had a serious relationship, but still…” He trails off, scrunching his nose.

“Never?”

Louis shakes his head, afraid to look at Harry right now. “What about you?” He asks, because, well…

He’s fucking nosy, and every answer he can get out of Harry is just…it feels like a reward or something equally big.

“Remember the football captain?” Harry doesn’t wait for a yes or no before he continues, voice low, “I thought it was a relationship. Like, puppy-love, whatever. But after his dad caught us, he dropped me. Didn’t look my way, ignored all of my calls.” Louis can hear Harry swallowing, and he pictures a younger Harry, wild curls on top of his head, soft and hopeful, trying to get attention from a boy who didn’t deserve it. It’s Louis turn to swallow, spit mixed with words he wants to say but doesn’t know how to voice. It’s probably not his place, anyway.

“He told me he loved me. I believed him.” Harry picks up again, mumbling more to himself than telling Louis the story now. “I was pretty naive back then, saw him with another bloke at some party. And…like that was it, he snogged that guy and…I mean, his dad and...I didn't understand.”

Louis glances at him, seeing him shrug, staring at his folded hands in his lap.

“S’stupid.” Harry scoffs, knitting his brows together, like he’s mad at himself.

“It’s not.” Louis protests, startling Harry and himself by the firmness of his voice. “It’s really not.” He says a tad softer.

Harry frowns at him, “I was sixteen.”

Louis shrugs, “So? First love is always the most consuming one.” At least Louis thinks so, he’d heard it from his friends. Eleanor has been in love, had her heart broken and she’d cried on Louis’ shoulder while he was high out of his arse, just listening to her whining and bawling about the guy. Still, the point got across and his fuzzy brain took in the information, that yeah, love is kind of dangerous for the heart and first love is the most short-lived, nerve wracking experience.

“Whatever.”  Harry mutters and that’s it.

Maybe there isn’t anything more to say. They don’t bring up Ivana, Lara, love or anything else for the rest of the drive, but the awkwardness disappears and when Harry falls asleep, Louis can breathe a little easier.

At least, Louis thinks, he’s got a couple of answers. He’s slowly starting to find out what Harry Styles is made of.

 

*   *   * 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii! I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, chapter 6 is one of my favourites. I really, really enjoyed working on it! let me know what you think, I'm curious. Anyway! Happpppy Reading.

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It’s a week after the party, and the memory of a kiss that's still undiscussed makes Louis’ heart clench every time he looks at Harry.

Louis vowed to himself that he wouldn’t be the one to bring it up, leaving the decision to Harry. This is a mistake considering Louis can’t think about anything else but Harry’s pink soft lips pressed against his. When Harry stands close and Louis is able to smell his spicy cologne mixed with the vanilla, sea-salt combination that really shouldn’t work but somehow does, his mind flashes back in time and suddenly he’s leaning against the solid car while Harry plants kisses on his neck, teeth biting into his skin like it's chocolate and Louis has to school his expression, not letting the flush spread further.

It’s kind of unfair, kind of hard to stomach, because the nagging feeling that lays heavy in his guts tells him it’s all a major joke to Harry, who’s acting as if nothing ever happened between them. Not their chat in the car, not Ivana snogging a girl that definitely wasn’t Lara.

Louis curses himself for evolving such a bloody crush on the boy in the first place. Out of all people, all the guys he’s snogged in the past - he, of course, had to fall face-first for someone that’s apparently not as interested in him as Louis is in him and, to be honest, that’s never happened before. It’s eccentric, Louis used to be the one who dropped the boys he slept with, who thought because they fucked one time, they’re gonna get married the following week. Oh, karma is a bitch. It’s bittersweet, really.

However, one thing between them changed after all and Louis is fucking relieved it did: there is no sign of ‘ _Rude-Harry’_ when they are alone or with friends. They earned a few puzzled and stunned glances from Lara and Liam whenever they ganged up against one of them, high-fived each other and refused to play a round of Mario Kart if one of them wasn’t in the same team as the other. Niall thought it was hilarious.

Harry has been nice to Louis, laughing at his jokes and making Louis laugh in return. They hang out more often than not, driving around town, eating disgusting greasy food that probably shortens their lives, and being partners in crime, quite literally.

The drug deals are still exciting, dealing mostly weed, at least when they stay in Macclesfield. They went to another Uni party at the weekend, sold coke and pills, slept in Liam’s dorm room on the floor — but they never touched, never kissed again.

They talked a lot too, not allowing it to get too personal but choosing to keep the topics safe, ones that both of them were comfortable with. Louis won’t ever not be surprised at what comes out of Harry’s mouth, convinced Harry has millions of Wikipedia pages memorised due to how he’s able to spit out fact after fact after fact that most people probably never think about. It's fascinating.

They still banter back and forth, of course. Louis never could hold back, his tongue too fast to form words and by the time his brain’s caught up, he has already said whatever it was that shot through his mind in the moment. Harry is smart, see, quick to spit out a feud and when Louis throws a witty remark his way, Harry keeps up, knowing Louis well enough now to understand it’s never meant as an insult and thankfully doesn’t take offence…or, he’s simply got used to Louis’ dark and biting humour.

When they get high together, laying outside on the grass in Harry’s backyard and watching the clouds float by, it’s mostly then that the useless facts come up and leave Louis’ hazy brain stunned.

Who the hell knows that during your lifetime, you’ll produce enough saliva to fill two swimming pools?

Harry, that’s who.

But then Louis gets a glimpse of Harry’s stomach, when he scratches his slender fingers lazily over the exposed skin and Louis has to swallow a mouthful of spit and he guesses maybe the theory about the swimming pools isn’t too far from the truth after all.

Harry blows Louis’ mind, not by the way his lips could stretch around Louis’ cock, but with what words leave those clever pink lips that Louis desperately wants to taste again. Louis is fascinated by how Harry’s brain works and would love to get a glimpse inside, watching the wheels turn.

On a more random note, Harry also believes ice-cream should be free for everyone and despite the fact that Louis tends to disagree with a lot of things that come out of Harry’s mouth, this is something he wholeheartedly agrees with.

Anyway, that just leads Louis to the conclusion that he’s utterly fucked, ditching Lottie, ditching Lara, ditching anyone and everyone really just so he can be around Harry. He told his sister that he’s taking free classes on campus, so he can pick one that he likes best. Obviously it’s a blatant lie, he hasn’t even seen any of the classrooms from the inside. He and Harry have been lurking around the corridors though, properly dressed as students too.

It started as a joke, backpacks slung over their shoulders, snapbacks hiding their hair, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of their ratty band shirts. They enjoy chatting with randoms, selling some drugs along the way, ambling around the campus, eating sandwiches under the shadow of a tree. Smoking with strangers, they’ve caught Liam and Zayn during sexy time more than once.

Yeah, it’s been a very long and very successful fun-filled week.

Louis is a bit worried about being too pushy with Harry, taking up all of his time and making himself at home in Harry’s house. The thing is, when Louis doesn’t show up in the morning, afternoon or evening, Harry calls, texts, shows up at Lottie’s, honking once when Lottie herself wasn’t home. So yeah, the feeling of wanting to spend time in each other’s pockets is mutual for sure.

It’s been just a week but it feels longer - much, _much_ longer. Louis can’t remember the time before, has no idea what he did before Harry took over all of his mind.

Right now, Louis is actually home, eating lunch with Lottie.

Half-heartedly, he’s nibbling on his sandwich, his attention glued to his phone. Louis can see that Harry’s texting him, the three little dots blinking and disappearing, as if he’s rewriting the text over and over again. Louis breathes out in frustration, nerves tingling. He closes the chat, pinky tapping on the screen and opening Google. He blinks a couple of times to remember what he wanted to do, his attention still hung on the fact that Harry’s texting him and taking his goddamn time about it, then he shakes his head slightly and types into the search bar ‘ _the most useless facts’_ and waits as a circle appears, telling him Google is on it.

His eyes dart to the top of the screen, where the notification would pop up if Harry had texted him. Pursing his lips, he focuses on the links Google spits out and presses the first one.

He hums, reading through some facts that he already knew before (Mageirocophobia is the fear of cooking - Harry had teased him about it after a little accident in the kitchen, when Louis refused to ever touch a single kitchen appliance ever again; a bunch of cats is called clower - Harry had started throwing that word into unrelated conversations, Louis enjoying the very bemused looks the others shared whilst Harry giggled beside him, mirth in his green eyes and a private smile that was reserved for Louis and Louis only; a single cloud can weigh more than a million pounds — that’s what Harry had informed him the last time they were cloud-watching and smoking pot whilst talking nonsense) and stops browsing to frown at a new fact - _Samba means rubbing navels together_. Harry will roll around on the floor when he hears this, and Louis cracks a smile imagining a giggling Harry in his mind. He takes a screenshot of it, making a mental note to show this one to Harry.

“Who are you texting that’s so important you can’t even put your phone down for a minute?”

Looking up, he’s met with two blue piercing eyes. Lottie licks ketchup from her thumb while she waits for an answer. He closes Google and reopens his chat with Harry, noticing with a slight frown that the fucker is still typing. He types as slowly as he speaks apparently. Louis sighs quietly, locking the mobile and putting it face-down on the table’s surface. Picking at the crust of his bread, he gives a nonchalant shrug. “No one, really.”

“Oh?” Lottie eyes the phone warily for a brief moment before bringing her gaze back up to his face. “So you haven't met _anyone_ at uni?” She asks, trying for casual but failing. She takes a large bite of her half-eaten sandwich, covering her mouth with her palm as her cheeks rounden.

Louis mulls it over, knowing it would be best to respond with a half-truth to pacify his sister. Shrugging again, he nods, “Kind of, dunno.”

“Uhhh!” She coos, smiling widely after she swallows. “Who is it? What’s his name?”

Hmpf, okay, he should’ve just said no.

Biting his lip, hoping it comes across as bashful, his eyes flicker to his phone.

Another mistake, because before Louis can react, she’s snatching it from the table.

“Hey!” He shoots out of his chair, making it wobble as the legs scratch over the floor.  “Lottie. _Not_ funny!”

Giggling, her eyes scan the screen. “What the hell.” She whispers almost to herself and Louis holds his breath, if Harry…sent something about _anything_ really…fuck, he’s _so_ fucked. Louis crosses his fingers mentally, willing Harry to just send him a joke he’s just thought of.

Nothing good comes out of having his phone with him, see. He hates his phone, fuck texting, fuck Harry for bringing Louis to use his mobile again.

“This guy is so weird.” Louis can’t disagree so he just wrinkles his nose, “I think he wants to murder you?”

Puzzled, Louis barks out a short laugh. “What? Gimme, lemme see! What did he say?”

And Lottie, she… bloody _throws_ his phone. The disrespect, honestly. Catching hold of it at the last second, it flips from one of his hands to the other like a hot potato burning his skin. When Louis gets a better hold of it, he holds the phone close to his chest, “Hey.” He grumbles with a pout.

Shrugging, Lottie stands up, placing their plates in the sink after throwing the leftovers in the rubbish. She cleans her hands on a towel. “Of course you’d be into a creepy serial killer.” She tuts, shaking her head in faux-disappointment.

“Dunno whatcha implying here,” Louis chirps, still having a death-grip on the phone, “but I can tell you, he might be… _weird_ , but not in a ‘ _I go around killing people for fun_ ’ way.” At least Louis thinks so, never can be too sure, though he doubts Harry is that kind of…person. Nah, he is pretty sure, Harry cried because he’d killed a spider three days ago, so yeah before Harry kills anyone, Louis will turn into a unicorn and stab people with his glittery horn, which is much more likely to happen. Hm.

“Hope you won’t ever find out, Lou,” Lottie sighs dramatically. “And if you do, remember the membership of the fitness-studio you never used? _Yeah_ , maybe getting back in shape would do you good. Just…you know, in case.” She grins cheekily, a devilish glint in her eyes as she tilts her head to the side.

Louis rolls his eyes at her and she makes a face back at him. As he pokes his tongue out, Lottie reaches out to catch it between her fingers and he swats at her. Giggling, he quickly checks his phone, now curious as to what let his sister think Harry is going around killing people to pass the time.

And yeah, well it does look a bit… _random_ at least.

Harry sent nothing more than three emojis; a house, a knife, and a skull. It’s a tad early to get into the Halloween spirit. Maybe it’s a code for something?

“Uh…” Louis says absently, blinking, trying to make sense out of it. Did he forget an inside joke they had rolling? “I can see what you mean.”

Lottie laughs delighted. “Fitness-studio membership.” She singsongs right in his ear, strolling out of the kitchen, apparently not very bothered that her brother could potentially date a serial-killer. Some family he has.

Unlocking his phone, he types his reply, a simple _what the fuck_ should get his confusion across.

It only takes the blink of an eye for Harry to call him.

Glancing around to check if Lottie really is gone, he accepts the call with a last hissing inhale.

He’s greeted with a laugh, which is a good start. Louis smiles despite trying to be stern with himself and suppressing a blush only because Harry’s voice is even deeper on the phone. It’s hot.  

“What the fuck?“ Louis repeats his text aloud, followed by a short laugh. He scratches his neck with his hand. “Doesn't sound like a sleep-over I wanna be part of.”

“Don’t you like horror-movies, Lou?” Louis can basically hear Harry's pout through the line, his smile growing into a grin as he bites on the pad of his thumb.

“Is there popcorn?”

“Loads.”

“Count me in.”

“Problem is, there are no horror-movies in my house, and - second that was not the point of the message. Sadly.”

Louis is kind of disappointed, “Oh?” Is all he can say, because watching horror movies with Harry sounded great, something he really, really wanted to be part of.

“Remember our competition?”

Frowning once more, Louis pulls at his upper lip. “Eh, no?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry breathes, chuckling, probably ruffling his hair. Louis adores Harry’s hair.  “Damn, shouldn’t have—”

“ _Oh!_ ” Louis exclaims, interrupting Harry. “I totally forgot, I won right? Who—” He stops himself there, snapping his mouth shut so suddenly his teeth click together. Lottie might not be in the kitchen but the living room is too close to be safe. “Hold on.” He says, spinning around and dashing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

When he’s in the safety of his room, door locked and all, he continues, “Yeah, yeah right. I won and you lost, so what? You gonna break into a house?”

“That’s the plan,” Harry affirms curtly, all business.

“When?”

“Uh…now? I’m actually out front. I like your shirt by the way.”

Oh god. Louis’ eyes widen and turning around very, very slowly, he shuffles to the window, peeking out.

Sure enough, there is Harry’s bread van, Harry leaning against it, waving when he sees that Louis has noticed him.

Louis hears the laugh over the line and sees it through the window. He grins, returning the wave.

“You’re an idiot, what if Lottie sees you? I can’t believe you.” Louis giggles, pressing his hand to the corner of his mouth.

“Isn’t she in the living room?”

“How d’you know that?”

He sees Harry shrug, still grinning like a cat that got the cream.

“Been here for a while.”

“Creep.” Louis rolls his eyes, making sure Harry sees even from a distance.

“You _wish_.” Harry laughs, flipping him off and hangs up.

Louis shakes his head, showing Harry the bird before putting on some random shoes, and throwing his phone onto the bed, he is out of his room in no time.

“Where you going?” Lottie stops him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Thought you’d wanna stay in today?”

Walking backwards in the direction of the front door, he raises his eyebrows. “Change of plans, _mum,_ see you in a bit.” He blows her a kiss for good measure and before she can say anything to detain him any longer, he spins around and is outside not a second later.

Swallowing the nagging guilt, he shuts the door behind him.

He will make it up for it, Louis vows. Maybe they can go out for dinner tomorrow. He knows this won’t happen, he’ll probably be with Harry, but the thought tames the hot bubble of guilt whirling in his gut.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Lottie is forgotten because Harry is already smirking at him. He starts the motor when Louis closes the door.

“Ready?” Harry asks, speeding down the street, making a quick left turn.

“Are you?” Louis lifts a brow when all he gets in return is a coy smile.

Alright then.

They are on the opposite street from the gardens that are barely hidden behind some high grown trees.

Harry parks alongside the pavement. To their right are houses, while to their left are the gardens. Louis glances at Lottie’s empty yard.

“You’re really excited about this.” Louis observes, taking in Harry’s basically glowing face. “What if she’s still home?”

Harry is already shaking his head mid-sentence. “Nah, she left an hour ago.” He turns fully to Louis, grinning and showing his dimple, green eyes bright in the midday sun. He rubs his hands gleefully.

“How’d you wanna do this?” Louis glances past Harry to get a good glimpse of the house. It looks dark, blinds let down to the bottom. “Any idea how you’re gonna get in?”

Harry’s grin modifies to a smirk that’s too smug, like he’s been waiting for the question for forever. “Oh yeah, she has a cat y’know? Cute little fluff-ball.”

“Oh yeah!” Louis widens his eyes in fake excitement, slapping his thigh once. “The little good old fluff-ball, of course.” He nods seriously.

Harry snorts, then frowns. “You knew she has a cat?”

“No Harold, I did not.” He rolls his eyes, “Obviously.” Harry shakes his head in amusement as Louis continues, receding to the more current subject, “So, what’s your point? Don’t think her cat will open the door for you.”

Harry snorts a chuckle. “No, it won’t — but, I used to cat-sit when she was on holiday.”

“So, you know the house.”

He nods, noticeably pleased with himself. “Not only that, I also got locked out once.”

Louis can see where this is going, but he waits for Harry to finish his little story anyway.

“So, I called her, yeah? ‘N she told me where her spare key is hidden.” Harry licks his lips, glancing towards the house.“It’s at the terrace, underneath some pot.”

“That’s cheating!” Louis exclaims in exasperation. It’s just for show, he doesn’t care if Harry has it easy to get inside. “If I had to break-in, you wouldn’t tell me a fucking thing.”

Harry grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “That’s correct, I wouldn’t. Also, it's _not_ cheating, it’s simply using my knowledge.”

“Whatever you say.” Louis says with a roll of his eyes, then he nods once - back to business. “Alright, go on then. I’m just gonna... sit here and wait?” That doesn’t sound too appealing, Louis frowns slightly.

“You wanna come with?” Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Could be fun.”

Louis shakes his head dismissively. “You go, I’ll wait here.”

Harry shrugs, pushing the door open. “Alright, let’s do this. Honk once if something happens.”

Louis keeps an eye on him as Harry strides over the lawn, passing a swing and marching up the three steps that lead to the terrace. Crouching down, he lifts two pots until he’s found the right one that hides the  key.

Louis' leg bounces as he cranes his neck to get a better look at the ephemeral operation. Harry faces him, waving the key around as if Louis hadn’t been watching, then he unlocks the backdoor. Harry rattles at it, when the door won’t open.  

Squinting for an unmoving moment, Louis emits a shuddered exhale. He scrambles out of the car, leaping around and leaning against the driver’s side, he grins to himself in victory as Harry enters the house, leaving the door ajar.  

Getting the pack of cigarettes from the car, he lights one, sucking at it as he checks the other houses for prying, inquisitive eyes. His gaze reels to his sister’s homestead, wondering if she’s still in the living room, he purses his lips. From where Louis stands, he can’t make out more than the reflection of the trees on the windows.

It’s a nice day out. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and the nicotine relaxes Louis. To be honest, Louis thought this would be more exciting but watching a house is anything but. Nothing is happening - he can’t see Harry or hear any noises.

He puffs out his cheeks and squirms to see something behind the glass of the living room from Ms. Oliver. There is nothing.

Pursing his lips, he stumps out the cigarette, striding towards the building himself.

He checks left and right to make sure no one sees him, then he slips through the door, hearing the soft click when he closes it.

“Harry?” He calls out, and when he hears no answer, he frowns, ears perking up for any sort of sign Harry is still in the house and didn’t just leave out front.

Louis figures he himself is in the living room; it’s painted in a faint yellow, picture frames decorating the walls and a bookshelf with books from classic authors stands next to the telly. The couch looks really comfy, pillows over pillows hiding the cushions.

He is startled out of his observations when he hears a dull noise coming from upstairs.

Making his mind up, he wanders from the living room to the hallway, up the stairs, hoping there is no ghost living in this house.

The hallway on the second level is dark, closed door after closed door, an old looking rug leading the way. The floorboards groan under his shoes as he makes it to the last room. Opening the door carefully he peeks inside.

Harry is there, just…laying on the bed of this woman, staring at the ceiling, humming to himself. His arms are spread out, legs swinging freely from the edge.

For a moment, Louis just watches him, observing the rise and fall of Harry’s chest, the way his milky skin stands out from the lilac duvet. Grinning, Louis licks his bottom lip.

He inhales. “Harry!” Louis yells with all the air he’s got trapped in his lungs, just couldn't resist.

Harry snaps upright, wild eyes locking with Louis’, his jaw so slack, it’s most definitely on the floor. Louis cackles when Harry clutches at his heart, face remaining ashen in the perfect picture of sheer alarm.

Louis doubles over with laughter, clasping his heaving stomach. “G-good nap?” He wheezes, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes. Harry’s expression is priceless.

“Jesus Christ!” Harry hisses, blinking owlishly, “What the fuck?”

“ _Woohh_ ,” Louis pants, inhaling loudly to get a hold of himself and straightens his spine.

“What’re you doing in here?” Harry groans, “You scared the living shit outta me, man.”  

Louis shrugs, arching his brows slightly. “Thought it’s more of a blast, innit?” Scrunching his nose, he glances around, pulling absently on his lower lip, he gives the painting of peculiar flowers on the wall behind the bed a flat, unimpressed look. The heavy chest-drawer stood next to the bed frame is more of his point of interest.

Hm-mh.

He strides over, curiosity earning the upper hand over morals and whatnot.

Opening the first cabinet, he wrinkles his nose when he discovers it’s underwear. Closing it immediately, he turns to Harry, the sharp bone of his elbow supporting his weight on the drawer’s surface.“Waiting by the car is no fun either.” He continues matter-of-factly, wiggling his hand along with his words.  

Harry shrugs, flattening on the bed. “Yeah, kinda.” Is all he says before swinging himself to his feet, letting out a huff and coming to a stand in front of Louis.

“But look what I’ve found.” He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Licking his lips, he fumbles with the handle of the cabinet, pulling it open. Louis makes a face when he digs through the poor woman’s neatly-organised lingerie.

“Harry I don’t—” _think this is a good idea_ , he wants to say but instead a surprised bark of laughter leaves his mouth when Harry shifts fully towards him. “Holy shit!” Louis exclaims, scandalised. “What the hell?” He guffaws, eyeing the enormous, pink dildo.

Harry chuckles, waving it around, “It's massive, innit?” He asks, voice full of awe.

“It's huge! How— How _old_ is she?” Louis titters.

Harry grins cheekily, giggling after. “She’s an old lady, but hey - everybody loves a bit of sexy-time, right? No shame in that.”  Expression molding to something more menacing, he weighs the thing in his palm, arching an eyebrow as he lifts the dildo like a sword, ready to fight Louis.

Louis breaks into another fit of hysterical laughter, “Don't…don’t,” He warns, taking a step backwards, “you’re touching it. That’s disgusting, don’t…” He rambles amongst huffed giggles, when Harry steps more into his space, grin widening as he lessens the space between their bodies. Louis sashays out of the way as Harry makes an attempt to stab him with it.

Harry scrunches his nose as sudden realisation dawns on him, “Fuck,” letting the dildo drop to the ground, like it’s burned him. “I forgot about that.” He brushes his hands off on his skinnies, “It's probably used, ew.”

Both of them glance at it in amused repugnance.

Louis snorts, “You actually forgot it’s already used? Seriously?”

“Whatever, I’ve touched much grosser things for sure.” Harry says with a chuckle.

“Like what?” Louis asks, eyes still fixed on the pink dildo. Honestly, he can’t imagine what is more disgusting than this at the moment.

“Like…” Harry hums, “back in school, they caught me chewing gum, so they made me clean the tables…like underneath, where everyone put their used gum. I touched one.”

They cringe in unison.

“That _is_ gross.” Louis affirms, nodding, “Poor Harry.”

“Learned my lesson. Never got caught again chewing gum, I put it under my tongue when I had to speak.” Harry grins.

“Thought, she owns a cat?“ Louis changes the topic as they stare at each other for too long and Louis’ throat closes in. Placing a hand on his hip, he checks over his shoulder, “I haven’t seen a cat.”

“Maybe it died.”

Louis snorts. “Well,” not sure what else to say or do, he glimpses at the open door again. “Best we leave, I don’t fancy getting caught.”

“But the risk of it,” Harry drawls, the sparkle reverting in his eyes, this time filled with boyish mirth, “is the best of it all.”  

Hands grab Louis’ sides, all his muscles tensing as he suddenly bounces on the bed. “Did you just throw me on the bed?” An astonished giggle escapes from Louis’ chest. “What am I? A fucking doll?” He endeavors to sweep upward, but then Harry is towering over him and his giggles die in his dry throat. They lock eyes and Louis’ heart chooses that moment to decide to stop working. He can’t hear anything except Harry’s even breathing.

Harry licks his smirking lips, biting on the tip of his tongue. “Whatcha gonna do about it?” he singsongs cheekily, a half-moon carving in his cheek.

 _Nothing_ , Louis doesn’t want to do anything about it, is the problem.

 _Harry is going to kiss me,_ Louis presumes, heart stuttering to beat in overdrive, hammering viciously against his ribcage, _I want him to kiss me._

He can feel the following kiss with his entire being. His toes curl, his fingers twitch useless by his sides.

The soft press of lips on lips turns to more, one peck, another smack, reverberating in the tranquil room. Harry’s tongue flicks over Louis’ bottom lip, nipping gently until Louis lets him in. Teeth clacking, tongues meeting. The heat of Harry’s mouth is tight around Louis’ tongue as the other boy sucks.

Louis is just…taking it, being submissive like never before. He loves that Harry can do that to him, let him melt into the blanket until nothing is left but a feverish feeling of not enough and too much at the same time. What Louis loves more, though, is being in charge.

Both of them are panting, trying to swallow the air rather than breathing in. Louis uses the moment to wrap his thighs around Harry’s hips, impetuously turning them around, so Louis is straddling Harry’s lap, smirking down at Harry’s perplexed expression. Eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks looking like two rosy apples.

“ _Fuck_.” Harry hisses, drawing Louis close by the nape of his neck. They kiss sloppily for another long moment.

Placing his hands next to Harry's head, Louis lets up from Harry’s lip, licks them a last time before planting kisses along his jaw, right under his ear.

He finds a mole he’s never noticed before on his neck, bringing his full attention to the spot, licking it, then biting it afterwards. Harry trembles beneath him, shaky hands finding his sides, fingers curling in the fabric of Louis’ shirt.

“Lou,” He whimpers low, nothing like the confident boy that manhandled Louis mere minutes ago. The following long and breathy _ahhh_ sound gives Louis an overwhelming feeling of power mixed with enormous pleasure and lust, when he nips on the already reddened spot. The mole sits right in the middle of it. Smoothing it over with his thumb, he sits back, satisfied with his work.

If Harry isn't going to mention any of this later on, at least he’s got something left as a reminder that it happened, every damn time he looks into a mirror.

Louis has to say, he loves this way more than he’d expected. Cool mysterious Harry a whining and moaning mess between Louis’ thighs? Who knew? Not that he's complaining. Louis loves the unexpected change in behaviour.

He presses his hard on against Harry's, feeling it jerk under the layer of jeans and boxers. He grinds a bit more forcefully, making Harry moan prettily, the sound loud between them. It spurs Louis on to do it again. Just a little movement with his hips, letting them roll against Harry’s crotch.

Looking back at Harry’s face, he has to bite his lip to stop himself coming on the spot because, fuck, fuck, fuck — Harry…he, if Louis thought Harry was a sight before, it’s nothing in comparison to how he looks right at this very moment. Louis kind of wants to take a picture.

Harry’s face is red, sweat glistening on his forehead, strands of his hair sticking to it. His eyes are pressed shut, mouth open and jaw slack.

Harry lifts his hips, searching for friction and they moan in unison when their clothed cocks slide against each other.

“Off, off.” Harry chants breathlessly, tugging on the hem of Louis’ shirt, “ _C’mon_.”

Louis nods curtly, already trying to get it over his head, but the neckline gets stuck on his ear, Louis yanking at it desperately.

Of course… _just_ of course, in that moment, they hear a noise coming from downstairs, Louis trapped in the darkness of his damn shirt. He tucks it down quickly.

For a beat, neither moves a muscle, frozen on the spot. Looking at each other with owlish panicked eyes, they listen to the steps, the jingle of keys.

Then, as if on cue, Louis scrambles off Harry as the other boy pushes himself up.

“Bathroom,” Harry mouths to him, pointing to a closed door.

Tiptoeing across the floor, they open it a crack, just for it to let out the most shirking noise ever. Harry looks wide eyed at Louis over his shoulder, hand tight around the handle.

Louis makes a shoo-gesture with his hands and they slip through the small door gap.

“What are we gonna do?” Louis whispers over the wild pounding of his heart. Other than before it’s fear that’s evolving him to shake and sweat.

“Let’s try the window.”

Peeking through the glass, Louis is faced with the backyard - second level, no ladder, no grid or railing to slide or climb down on. Nothing.

They would break all of their bones if they were to jump; it’s high and the ground very much solid.

He makes a face at the sight.

“Fun enough Louis?” Harry hisses, leaning close so he can have a look over Louis’ shoulder.

“Fuck off.” Louis gnarls lowly. There is no time for bickering. They must get out of here. Now.  

“Think she’s coming upstairs.”  Harry gasps, mouth flapping open. Louis’ heart tumbles on the floor.

“Do somethin’.” Louis presses with a tight voice.

“Like _what_?” Even when Harry’s voice is just as thin, he manages to sound sarcastic.

Louis rolls his eyes at him, simultaneously chewing his lip raw. He’s so fucking nervous.

There are steps coming down the hall, a hundred percent walking towards the bedroom, and Louis doesn’t procrastinate any longer, taking Harry’s arm. They don't have the time to discuss plans any further. Louis acts on the first thought that shoots through his crazy heated mind.

Pushing Harry to the wall behind the door, Louis slots himself in front of him, pressing himself close against the other boy. Coddled together and breathing in each others air, they wait.

Louis thinks he can hear Harry’s heart racing, matching his own. Looking up, he locks eyes with him. Harry looks so scared. Louis is too, don’t get him wrong, but there is something so innocent about Harry in that moment that Louis hadn’t witnessed before.

Without thought, he gets on his tiptoes, pecking Harry’s bitten raw lips. The kiss is broken by a sigh coming from the bedroom.

“Huh,” a female voice says, and Louis remembers, he knows Harry does too, because his body goes stiff as a board. “Weird.”

The dildo. They left the fucking dildo on the floor.

The woman groans as she picks it up, walking towards the drawer, they hear it open a moment later.

She sighs again, a rustle comes from the other room, some patting of fabric and Louis assumes by the sound of it she’s making the bed Harry and Louis were laid on just minutes prior. The memory encompasses his body frame fervently in overwhelming speed. The situation is nerve-wracking enough as it is, yet something about it shoots Louis an extra kick, no silent praying helps to prevent his cock from filling up with fresh enduring lasciviousness. Harry’s thigh is between his parted legs and Louis is positive it doesn’t go unnoticed. Risking a glance between their pressed together bodies, he swallows thickly. Apparently he's not the only one who's affected. Studying the pronounced outline of Harry’s dick, Louis’ cock throbs in response to what he’s seeing.

They are fucked and fucked up, equally. Louis would’ve laughed out loud if it wouldn’t have given them away.

Instead, he holds his breath, thinking about their sure visit to jail in place of Harry’s cock. That should do the trick.

It doesn’t.

Louis freezes once more as Harry lifts the hem of his shirt. Cheeky fingers ghost over the waistband of Louis’ pants, slipping inside just above the curve of Louis’ bum.

Restraining a shudder, a moan, and hiss altogether he glares up at Harry, eyebrows furrowed.

Even with his cheeks pale from shock and worry, there is a daring simper pasted on his face, red lips stretching and revealing a row of straight white teeth. Louis never noticed before how huge his front teeth are, like bunny teeth.

Louis shakes his head in the smallest of movement, whilst Harry’s finger continues teases his rim. Louis’ arse tenses under the barely-there pressure of fingertips. Breathing in shakily, he forces himself to stay still, his jaw flexing as he grinds his back teeth harshly.

Letting his forehead sink to Harry's bicep, he bites into the flesh as revenge and a warning to keep quiet. Harry shudders in response, Louis hearing him swallow.

Everything becomes a static noise after that, the edges of Louis’ vision dazzles as Harry cajoles his opening. Louis nips on his arm. _This is what death feels like,_ he supposes, _I am going to die_. He represses another shiver when Harry practically presses in.

He’s out of it and startles hard when the door slams. Both of them jump at sudden noise.

Louis hadn’t heard the steps, hadn’t been listening, because for a moment all he could concentrate on was Harry. Completely and utterly consumed by the smell of Harry; the sound of Harry’s affected breathing, the soundtrack of his walloping heart; the heatwaves that radiate off his body.

_Harry, Harry, Harry._

“Jesus Christ,” Louis moans meekly, the keyed-up, anxious energy being sucked out of his bones, leaving relief in its place. Louis allows the breathless giggle to crawl up his throat, stifling the sound on Harry’s armpit.

Slowly, Harry withdraws his fingers from Louis’ pants.

He’s incapable of looking Harry in the eye, so he recoils, risking a peek into the bedroom which, thank God, turns out to be empty and he heaves a grand sigh that lifts his shoulders.

“Louis.”

He swallows.

“Louis, look at me.” Harry commands in such a dominating voice that Louis can’t help but gaze up.

Harry’s hands find his neck and Louis’ lips part before they even collide with Harry’s.

It’s nothing like any of the kisses they shared before. It’s messy, too wet, too much teeth and tongue but behind it all, there is so much passionate heat, relief that they didn’t get caught, and bottled-up desire that tries to break free, trying to engulf them both.

Everything he’d ever experienced before is insignificant compared to this. He’s overwhelmed, his lungs urge him to break away, to inhale air, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He simply can’t. Not yet. He might die of suffocation but it would be worth it. Louis’ fingers dig into Harry's waist, holding him like a lifeline.

They snog, clinging to each other and inhaling the other’s air until there are no more worries settled in their bones, their chests free from the fear of almost getting caught and the unpleasant possibilities that would have come with it.

“Bloody hell.” Louis pants against Harry, feeling Harry’s lips stretch into a smile, mirroring his own.

“Let’s find a way out.” Harry whispers, withdrawing slightly from Louis, his shadowy green eyes hooded with lust.

Gulping air into his already ballooning stomach, Louis listens again, holding his breath until he feels as if his lungs might explode.

All he can make out is...silence.

“Let’s try.”

“Maybe we can jump on the garage and climb down the rest?” Harry wrinkles his nose, looking like he wants to reject the idea right away.

Which - to be honest - isn’t that bad at all. Louis has done it before. The house might not be the exact same as his sister’s, however - the garages are right next to each other.  

It could actually work.

“Which room is it?” Louis asks, peeking out into the thankfully empty corridor. He tries not to get distracted by Harry’s chest against his backbone.

He hears Harry swallow before answering, “I think the one on the left, opposite the staircase.”

Lurking forward, they stand on their tiptoes, stopping every few steps to check for any sign of another human being in the house.

Louis grabs Harry's arm as a sudden _meow_ makes him jump a bit in the air.

Whipping his head, there is a black cat with big green eyes peering at them, head cocked. It kind of reminds him of a cartoon cat. Nose wiggling, it licks its paws, interest lost and eyes closed.

Harry laughs tonelessly against Louis' neck, making Louis grin.

Leave it to the cat to scare the shit out of him.

Louis just opens the door when that bloody cat meows again, rubbing its head on Harry's calf.

Harry makes a shoo-sound at it, but it remains unbothered, just sniffling.

“Samantha!” calls a voice from downstairs, sounding dangerously close to the stairs. “Samantha, Sammy!”

However, the cat is still in love with Harry’s legs, won’t stop nosing at them and rubbing its head on Harry’s calf. Well, Louis can relate, Harry is blessed with the nicest legs.

“She smells Travis.” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, the hot air tickling it and Louis represses what feels like the millionth shiver of the day.

“Useful information.” Louis mutters under his breath, making Harry chuckle.

Returning to the mission at hand, Louis opens the door a bit wider. Taking a tiny step inside, he’s faced with a sort of home office.

A wooden table takes up half the space, book shelves are plastered on every wall. It looks heavy, vintage and stuffy, Just like his grandpa's old home office, Louis thinks absentmindedly as he walks towards the small window.

“Sammy, kitty-cat! Come to _mummy_!” The woman calls for her bloody cat again, but this time they hear her coming up the stairs.

Fuck.

Not losing any time, thought or energy to do anything else, he opens the window, already swinging his legs out of it.

He jumps. He actually does it. The fall is three metres.

Air is whistling in his ears and then his feet collide with the top of the flat garage roof, Louis catching himself from his ungraceful landing, stumbling a few steps, almost falling off the edge, arms rowing until he recoils from his dangerous spot.

Hissing through the back of his teeth, he looks up just in time to see Harry swing his legs over the sill of the window.

Just as he makes an attempt to jump, there is a loud, shirking “Hey!” to be heard and no more time to to be wasted to check if Harry made it down alright.

Louis hears Harry groan and he chooses to believe it’s a good sign. Angling himself down the garage, he props his shoes on the wall before letting go of the edge, closing his eyes until he lands a second time on solid, hard ground. A needling pain shoots up his calves as he scrambles to vanish into thin air just in case the old woman turns out to be a top athlete despite her age and outruns him.

Harry is right behind him, pushing Louis forward as they flee from the building.

“C’mon!” Harry shouts at him, stumbling himself as he tries to go faster, “Left! _Left_!”

Legs burning from the hasty pace, Louis pushes himself, grateful that he has always been an energetic runner. All his footie training is coming in handy now.  

Just when Louis starts to slacken in his steps, lungs almost collapsing with the desperate need for air, the car comes into view and they slow their speed, gasping for oxygen.

Breathing heavily, Louis bends forward, hands on his knees, eyes bulging out of their sockets. The sun is flaming on his neck, causing his entire body to itch.

“We should pick up jogging.” Harry pants, rolling his head in his neck, hands on his hips, “Fuck, maybe we should stop smoking so much, too.”

“Stop eating crap as well.” Louis wheezes, giggling breathlessly. He stands upright, ruffling through his damp hair. He wrinkles his nose at the stickiness.

“ _Fuck_ .” Harry laughs breathy, “Pschhfff.” Wiping sweat off his forehead and rubbing the side of his nose, he yanks the car door open. “Let’s get the _fuck_ outta here.”

 

*   *   *

 

The drive alleviated both of them, the rolled down windows letting the breeze clear their heads. The nicotine has made both of them go placid on the worn-down leather seats.

Louis isn’t surprised as Harry parks the van in front of his own house, just glancing briefly at Harry before hopping out the car.

He can’t deny he’s a bit nervous. After what they did earlier on the bed and in the bathroom, he’s hesitant about what will happen after they enter the house. Are they going to talk about it? Will they ignore it? Will they continue where they left off?

It’s never a coherent line with Harry, Louis never knows, never can be sure. Louis doesn’t like that but he likes Harry, so he won’t push, won’t bring it up first. He’ll let Harry lead the way, the direction they are meant to go.

It seems as if Louis’ concern is unnecessary, because the moment they step into the hallway, Harry swirls them around, pushing Louis against the closed door, lips on his in seconds.

Louis is fucking desperate, whimpering against Harry's mouth, his dick filling up a third time in under an hour. After all the frustration, the edging, the almost there, but never quite, he can’t blame his cock for being so responsive.

“Harry, please.” Louis begs, fingers curling to fists gripping Harry's shirt. He just…he needs to touch Harry, needs to feel him _everywhere_. He wants to spread him out on a bed and put his mouth on every inch of Harry’s heated skin. To make him come just from his tongue, to fuck him open with it, or…he wouldn’t mind the other way around too much, either. He makes a needy sound in the back of his throat, whimpering when Harry’s teeth sink into his neck, like some vampire.

“What d’you want Louis?” Harry whispers, letting up from him. Dark hooded eyes are fixed on Louis’ lips, and then he licks them. Fingers dig into his waist, like Harry needs support too.

“Oh, this is _too_ good.” Cackles a voice with a heavy Irish accent from somewhere near the doorway to the living room.

Harry freezes and so does Louis, but they don’t jump apart. Instead they lock wide, horror-filled eyes. They know who this is, they know all too well, and still, they don’t move a muscle.

Louis hopes if they don’t acknowledge him, he might disappear into thin air. Because this — this is torture. Louis’ dick agrees, still pressed against his pants and throbbing with need for release, probably an angry red colour.

If Louis dies from blue balls, he will sue Niall from his afterlife. He will make sure the Irish lad rots in hell for doing this.

At last, Harry bites down on his bottom lip, bulging his eyes in annoyance, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nostrils for a second until he rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder.

“Hello Niall.” Louis greets through his teeth, glaring at Niall over Harry’s hunched shoulders.

The Irish lad leans one shoulder against the door frame, arms folded across his chest and a far too amused and pleased expression colouring his face. He cocks an eyebrow when their eyes meet.

Then another cackle leaves his lips, that bastard, and he slaps his thigh as he doubles over with breathless laughter. “Oh dear,” He wheezes, “never ever saw that one coming.”

Louis’ eyes narrow.

“Oh, Jesus!” Niall wipes a tear from the corner of his bright blue eyes, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Harry breathes against Louis’ skin one last time before straightening up and turning around to face Niall himself. “I shouldn’t have given you that bloody spare key.” He groans, stepping away from Louis and leaving him to pass Niall into the living room.

Louis already misses Harry’s hands on him.

Niall cracks a smile once more. “Sorry to be a cock-block.” He says, sounding anything but apologetic.

Louis rolls his eyes heavenward, too frustrated and disappointed to be embarrassed about Niall catching them. Right now, he’s more likely to kill Niall - a knife would do the job, a slow stab in the lad’s fucking throat.

Lottie’s warning about Harry being a potential serial killer seeps through his mind, and while Harry looks like he’s thinking the same as him, Louis knows he would be the one to become a murderer if he doesn’t suck Harry’s dick in the next thirty minutes.

Entertaining that thought for another second, he steps away from the door, adjusting himself in his uncomfortably tight pants.

“What d’you want, Niall?” Harry asks from somewhere in the living room.

Niall eyes Louis in amusement for another moment before following the sound of Harry’s voice, while Louis stays put in the entrance, unsure if he should follow too or just go home. It looks like Niall is here to stay. And if he’s being honest, he really, really wants to have a shower, so he can have a well deserved wank. It’s not a too pleasurable alternative of what could have developed, but it’ll have to do.

As frustration creeps up on him, he inhales deeply and makes his way into the kitchen where the voices are coming from.

Harry is putting the kettle on, his back turned to Niall as he gets three cups out of the cabinet.

Louis watches them for a moment, then he scratches his neck. “Maybe…uh, it’s best if I head home?” He asks, avoiding looking at Niall, but fixing his stare on Harry’s spine, which stiffens at Louis’ voice.  

Harry glares at him over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Oh no,” He says, blinking owlishly. “Nope, Lou, you _stay_ .” _Don’t leave me alone with him_ , his big green eyes beg. They narrow as Louis takes a step backwards, _don’t you dare_ , they say then. Louis gulps all the air into his lungs that he can suck in.

His eyebrow twitches in annoyance, but he stays put.

He’ll sue Harry as well, when he dies of blue balls.

“Yeah, Tommo, you better stay wi’ us.” Niall interjects, grinning.

Louis sends Niall a glare, causing the other lad to crack up again and well, yeah. Fuck.

“So how long has this been going on?” Niall asks, eyes flickering from Harry (who is suddenly very interested in watching the bubbles in the kettle) and Louis, (who is very, very interested in the patterns on the floor).

Louis has no idea how to answer the question, which is embarrassing enough. They never went further than snogging and some grinding. Harry never mentioned it, so they never talked about it. Maybe there is nothing to talk about, but still, Niall’s curious yet amused eyes bore into Louis’ as he looks up.

Louis shrugs half-heartedly, eyes glancing at Harry, Niall following their direction.

Harry has his back turned towards them, pouring the hot water in three mugs, asking with a quiet voice, “Sugar and milk?” though he knows how both of them take their bloody tea.

Louis narrows his eyes, not answering.

When they are seated on the couch, Niall between Harry and him, Louis feels the most awkward he’s felt in a while, gulping his too hot tea as he stares at the coffee table in front of him.

Niall has a Golf match playing on telly, making comments about the technique of the players. It all sounds like he knows what he’s talking about and it quickly gets boring watching white little balls fly through the air.

Niall mutters into his tea, when one of the players missed the hole just _so_ , and Louis rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s bloody golf, Niall.” He mumbles, unimpressed when Niall lets out another curse…at a green and blue screen — because there is literally nothing else to see. They show the bloody lawn. What the hell.

His whole body stiffens when fingers ghost over his arm. Blinking, he glances to the side.

Harry’s eyes are still fixed on the telly, his posture relaxed, expression unimpressed. Just the little twitch of the corner of his mouth lets on that he knows what he’s doing.

Louis tries to relax again, so Niall doesn’t notice.

When Harry's fingers find their way to the bare side of Louis’ neck, he swallows at the barely there feeling and turns to the telly.

Trying to be subtle, he leans more into the touch, sitting so close to Niall that he can feel the lads body heat.

“Ya bastard!” Niall yells at the telly, prompting Louis to kick out his leg at the sudden, raucous voice.

Harry chuckles, index finger poking his skin, he pulls at the soft hair in the nape of Louis’ neck, making him roll his head to the side.

Arching a brow, he locks eyes behind Niall’s head with Harry.

Harry winks and rolls his eyes after, nodding towards Niall.

Louis grins, covering his chuckle with a cough, he pulls a funny face at Harry, crossing his eyes. Harry bites his lip, fighting off his smile, but the dimple carved into his cheeks betrays him.

“Did you guys _see_ that? Can you believe…” Niall exclaims, muttering to himself something about _loser_ and _not right_.

“Need a fag.” Louis announces, all whilst looking at Harry, trying to tell him with his eyes what he actually wants.

Harry gives a tiny nod.

“Hmm, me too.” Harry joins in.

They get up together.

“Keep it in yer pants.” Niall calls after them. Harry flips him off, setting the other boy in a fit of giggles.

Outside, Harry closes the terrace door. “He enjoys this way too much.” He mutters, taking out two cigarettes, giving one to Louis without being asked.

“Thanks.” Louis pats his pocket for a lighter, but Harry’s already got one between his slender fingers, lighting both of their cigs.

All he wanted is to be alone with Harry, but now that he finally is, he’s not sure what to do. The tension between them from earlier is faint and it’s not like they could do anything with Niall inside, ready to pop out at any given moment. Louis doesn’t fancy getting caught a second time, or is it a third? Does the woman from the house they broke into count?

Whatever. Louis really, really doesn’t want to be caught another time around.  

“ _Soooo_ …” Harry starts, exhaling. Louis watches the smoke curl in the air until it’s gone. “We should talk.”

Louis swallows, but nods in agreement. Talking is good, a proper adult talk about desires like _Hey, I wanna blow you_ and _I wouldn’t mind bending over for you_. But also about feelings, because lately Louis has a lot of them. He’d prefer the sex-talk first, to get the need and frustration out of the way.

“I’m—” Harry is cut off by the ringtone of his fucking phone, because this — this is just Louis’ luck. He’s in hell, burning alive, watching Harry send him an apologetic smile before accepting the call.

“Hey Gem,” He greets the caller, back turned to Louis. “Yeah, of course, I can talk.”

Stumping out his fag, Harry slides inside, leaving Louis behind for whoever the mysterious caller might be.

This cannot be happening, Louis thinks, sucking on his own cigarette, blinking at the closed glass door.

He chuckles wetly, scrubbing his cheeks harshly. He pinches his jaw with his thumb and index finger, feeling the outline of his teeth under his skin. Letting out another chuckle, he dips his head down.

He’s getting hysterical and it’s been a long day. A _very_ long, _very_ painful day.

Louis is not even sure why he feels like crying right now, but he does. His throat feels tight and his eyes are stinging. Biting his lip, he turns away from the glass door, sitting down on the steps.

Inhale, exhale.

Throwing away the fag, he sighs, thinking he's losing it a bit. Maybe he’s going insane.

Swallowing air, he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes pressing closed.

“Stupid,” Louis mutters to himself. “No reason to get worked up over something so small.”

Louis knows it’s not only the current situation he’s in that is getting to him. It’s the whole fucking thing. The past three weeks, since he first set foot in Macclesfield. He hadn’t wanted to make friends or sell drugs, he thought he’d be asleep most of the time, maybe moping around the house, eating junk food and avoiding Lottie’s talks.

Those three weeks shouldn’t have happened. His attraction to Harry is something that he never wanted, never craved. The smell of the strong cologne shouldn’t be so familiar, that fucking dimple of Harry’s shouldn’t brighten his day. It just makes Louis feel more motivated to make Harry smile over and over again, just so he can admire his dimple a bit longer. He shouldn’t be able to recall Harry’s laugh so clearly and he shouldn’t chuckle at the stupid, absolutely unfunny jokes that Harry tells.

His heart shouldn’t clench and start beating like it’s trying to fly out of his chest when he sees a text from Harry.

He never meant for this to happen, to get his feelings in a twist over a boy.

It’d been so easy to deny it at the beginning, to dislike Harry just because he is a drug dealer.

It’s more than that now, it’s not just some weird fucking job he’s doing.

Opening his eyes, he blinks against the light, wishing for rain and grey clouds instead.

The Talk will happen soon, anyway. He tells that to himself as he gets up. Harry just had an important call coming in.

They will talk later, when Niall is gone. They will talk tomorrow or maybe on the weekend.

Next week. Next month. Whenever really, as long as they _do_ talk eventually.

Slipping into the house, he sees Niall still watching golf but there’s no sign of a curly head of hair.

“Where’s Harry?” Louis asks, afraid of the answer.

“Oh,” Niall doesn’t have to say the words, the expression on his face is enlightening enough, “Harry left.”

Louis closes his eyes, not surprised but disappointed.

“Where did he go?” he croaks, knowing the answer already.

“Manchester.”

Right.

“What’s so important in Manchester?”

When Niall doesn’t responds, Louis sighs, tiredly.  “Guess I’ll just go, then”

“Nah mate. Stay.”

“No, I’m just a tiny bit... _knackered_.” Louis says with a flat voice, not caring if Niall believes him or not.

“Are you okay?” Innocent blue eyes peek at him and Louis can’t stand the concern he sees, “You know I was only joking, before. Right? You aren’t mad, now, are you?”

It takes a handful of seconds before Louis gets what he means, blinking as he chuckles. “Oh, nah. It's quite alright. Did us both a favour, I reckon.”

Niall frowns, patting the cushion. “C’mere, let’s talk.”

 _You’re not the one I want to talk to_ , Louis thinks, but shuffles to the sofa nonetheless.

Niall slings his arm around his shoulder, tugging him close.

“Don’t be cross w'him,” Niall says, “Harry’s a good lad.”

Louis snorts at that, but remains mute, feeling like a small child being coddled by his Mum after a hard day at school. Louis thinks so at least, not that he’d ever experienced that kind of closeness at home.

“He talks loads ‘bout ya.” Niall continues, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Louis did _this_ , Louis did _that_ . Oh Niall, ya wanna know what joke Louis told me? _Bla-bla-bla_.” He chuckles, breath tickling the top of Louis' head. “S’like useless facts are replaced by facts about the almighty Louis! I never needed to know what kind of shampoo you're using or what your opinion on chest-hair is, yet Harry told me anyway.”

Louis gasps. “He did not tell you, oh my god!” He exclaims, laughing in surprised outrage, “No way! That was _top_ \- _secret_ information.”

Niall snorts, patting Louis' hair. “Just because you have, like, three baby-hairs growing on your chest doesn't mean the majority of men have the same issue mate, also nothing wrong with using women's shampoo.” Niall sniffs loudly above Louis' ear, “You _do_ smell like a winter’s dream though. Like cinnamon-candy!”

More shocked laughter bubbles out of Louis' vibrating belly, “Holy shit! Cinnamon candy, pfff…” he rolls his eyes, but doesn't move from Niall’s cradle or still sniffling nose that tickles his ear.

Their amusement subdues, a serene silence settling over them like a blanket.

“Thought I might lose my best friend to you.” Niall admits a moment later, and when Louis opens his mouth to protest, Niall shushes him, patting his cheek in a grandmotherly way. “Now I know why Harry’s been talking about you. I mean, I never thought it'd be possible for you two to get along or...whatever you guys are up to.” Niall shrugs easily. “I think he likes you more than he lets on, Louis.”

Louis can't wrap his mind around what Niall just revealed to him. He knows Niall isn't lying - Niall isn't the type to talk bullshit if the matter is important, which is kind of the case at the moment. However, maybe Niall read it all wrong and is trying to cheer Louis up, give him some illusion of hope that his little, tiny crush isn't that one-sided after all.

“It’s sweet.” Niall coos. “Never ever seen him like that. All smiley.”

Louis frowns at that. “Whatcha mean?” Louis mumbles into Niall’s shirt, blinking.

“Haz…I dunno, it’s not really my place to tell ya.” Niall falters. “But—”

“If you think H doesn’t want you to tell me, then don’t.” Louis interrupts. He wouldn’t want to disrespect Harry like that, getting information behind his back. It sits wrong with Louis although he craves to know more about Harry.

Niall heaves a great sigh. “Good, good. You’re a good lad too, Tommo.”

Louis smiles softly, sitting upright. “Thanks, Ni.”

They share a moment of affection, Louis' heart swelling for Niall. The past three weeks might have been a rollercoaster, but at least he got a real friend out of it.

“Out of everyone I know Harry’s friends with, ya the only one I give permission to suck his dick.“ Niall basically coos.

Louis swats him upside the chin and Niall draws him into a headlock, and the moment of emotional friendship bonding is over, developing into a wrestling match all over the floor.

Wrestling with Niall, Louis almost forgets how the sport chanel still shows the fucking grass and the house is too quiet, not filled with Harry’s laugh like usual.

  


*   *   *

 

For the first time, Louis doesn’t jump to answer the phone call. Actually, he just blinks blankly at the screen. The name is displayed for the longest minute ever, along with the maddening ringtone. Louis scratches his bare chest, as a text follows.

_Lou, are you mad?_

He is not mad, he refuses to be mad. Why would he be mad?

He’s just… _exhausted_ , that’s all, and exhaustion means he is _not_ in the mood for Harry, to be honest. Louis feels like a dick for ignoring the boy he wants to speak to so badly, but he just can’t, is the thing.

If he thought the tug-of-war game was old before, it’s vintage now.

_C’mon wanna c u_

Louis’ heart picks up speed at the message.

_Louuuuuuuu_

No, Louis won’t give in this time. Here is how it will go: Harry picks him up, they laugh about nothing, they talk about irrelevant shit, they smoke so it makes it all okay, and no one is going to bring up the elephant in the room. Then, they fall asleep on the couch tangled with each other, after eating their weight in crap food.

Louis is done with it.

Another phone call comes through and he’s not so sure if he actually is done with it.

Licking his lip and swallowing again, he groans.

Then he picks up, because he is fucked.

“What?” He says flatly, staring at the ceiling of his room.

“Finally!” Harry exclaims with a great sigh of relief. “Weren’t you on your phone?”

Louis could easily lie, say yeah he had brekkie with his lovely sister, but also-

“No, I saw your texts.”

He doesn’t feeling like lying today.

“Oh…uh,” Harry stutters, probably taken aback by Louis’ monotone response. “Are you alright?” After a moment he adds, “Are _we_ alright?” His voice cracks at the end.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I…I dunno? Why were you ignoring me?”

No, why did you just fucking leave without a word, yesterday? Louis wants to ask, yell. Whatever.

Instead, he inhales deeply. He can’t do this. Harry might have secrets but so does Louis. They never had a heart-to-heart conversation, so why is he feeling like…Harry is going behind his back or something? Because that's truly bullshit, innit?

So he backtracks, starting to feel like shit about treating Harry the way he did, again. “I’m not, just…not feeling well.” Which is true, restless sleep, headaches with no end, and all that fun stuff.

“Wanna come over?” Harry asks quickly. “We can…like, watch a movie or something?”

Louis lets the smile sneak on his lips. “What, no business today?”

There is silence on the other end.

“Uh, yeah…later though, you’ll join me, right?” It shows how insecure Harry is feeling about Louis, because he’s never asked before. It always was obvious that Louis tags along. Always more of a fact than anything else.

“Sounds good.” Louis comments tiredly, holding the phone tighter. “I’m getting ready now.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Yeah,”

“And Lou?”

Louis blinks at the soft voice. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

It’s a punch in the stomach, all the air leaves his lungs.

He stares blankly at the ceiling.

Harry is sorry about kissing him.

Louis should’ve known, he was stupid for thinking Harry could see him more than a friend, snogging and boners aside.

Louis clenches his jaw, closing his eyes. Listening to Harry’s even breathing through the line, his heart shatter into a million pieces. He had hope, okay? That this ridiculous boy would like Louis just as much as Louis likes him. With his angelic curls and his sharp jaw and too bright jade green eyes, with his quick wit and-

The kisses were lies, the closeness, the feeling of warmth and desire, the hope of more than just sex. Though they never even had that either. Louis is such a bloody blind fool. That is why people talk about this. And when they don’t, shit like heartbreak over nothing at all happens. Maybe Harry is just a person that likes kissing people. Maybe it didn’t matter to him as much as it did to Louis.

Recalling the events of the past week, it never was _just_ kissing innit? First at the party, Harry was upset about Ivana, then in the house, they almost got caught. He never tried to kiss Louis when his emotions were settled to the ground. Always acting out of high-levelled emotions.

Fuck, Louis is so stupid.

“Lou, you still there?”

Right.

He’s still on the line with the only boy that broke his heart by just being himself. Louis can't be mad at Harry; he's innocent. It's all Louis fault - since when does he _do_ feelings?

Louis blinks against the scratching tears, which totally are uncalled for.

“Yeah, yeah” He sniffs, “‘M here.”

Harry heaves a sigh, “Okay, so you’re _not_ mad?”

Louis takes a moment to gather himself. He doesn't want to snap at Harry. Feelings are feelings and if Harry doesn’t feel the same way about Louis, then so be it. He can’t force the boy to like him.

Is he sad? Yes. Depressed? Check. Feeling the emptiness creep up his stomach? Oh yeah. Heartbroken? Sure is.

But mad?

No, only at himself for letting him get into this mess.

He craves to get high to forget all of it.

“‘Course not.” Louis says, his throat is closing up and he really needs to get off the phone now.

“Good,” Harry drawls, oblivious to Louis breakdown, “see you!”

“Bye,”

The line goes dead and Louis…feels like dying too.

He continues to stare at the ceiling that witnessed it all.

  


*   *   *

 

Louis saunters to Harry’s, knowing full well that he is late.

His feet shuffle heavily over the pavement, the task of moving his legs harder than it should be. Louis sighs for what he feels like is the twentieth time.

Louis also knows he can’t act normally around Harry, as if nothing ever happened. He’s done that for the past few weeks and he’s now reached the point where it’s not working anymore. They took it too far and it has been Harry’s doing. It’s his fault that they are in this mess, he’s always the one coming after Louis, kissing him and panting so prettily against Louis’ mouth.

That's what he told himself in the shower. Yes it's his own fault for developing feelings, but it's Harry's fault for dropping oil in the flame.

Louis is human, he can’t resist such an open invite. Still, he regrets it and the way to Harry’s house feels more like walking the plank.

Passing the diner, he waves at Niall and ambles across the road, not caring if jaywalking is dangerous and whatnot.

The cars stop with a shrieking noise and Louis is disappointed in a way that he’d never admit aloud.

From here, it’s not far anymore and Louis comes to a halt, just watching the lifeless street ahead of him. It looks pretty. He beholds the end of the street from here, the fields a bright green.

They walked Travis so many times together, Louis knows those fields by heart now.

Louis wishes it would be autumn already, rain mixed with warm orange and brown colours swirled together. It'd fit his mood better than the blue sky.

He pushes his legs to work, dragging his feet the last few metres and up the three steps until he’s face to face with the door.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, he prays he will survive being with Harry alone and accept his boundaries.

Louis won’t be selfish, not this time, not with Harry.

So yeah. He’s made his mind up and feels shit about it but…

Without knocking or ringing the bell, he opens the door silently. Harry never locks it when he knows Louis is coming over.

Most of the time, he’s found Harry laying on the sofa watching cartoons or rom-coms. He’s found him in the kitchen, cooking them some lunch and then there was a time when Louis stepped into an empty house. At least the living room and kitchen were empty. Louis was sure that Harry was just laying down in his actual bedroom that Louis never got the chance to catch a glimpse of.

Anyhow, moving on.

Louis ambles into the living room, already knowing it’s empty without having to check because back in the hallway, he was greeted with the smell of delicious food.

There are voices coming from the kitchen, clattering and rustling joining them, Louis’ shoulders feeling much more heavy than before. So they won’t be alone, which should be considered a _good_ thing. But what if Harry is now so uncomfortable that he doesn’t want to hang out with Louis alone?

Only one way to find out.

Standing in the doorway, he blinks at Lara, who’s sitting on the counter, legs swinging, her heels banging against the drawer.

He hasn’t seen her in a while, maybe a few days.

Munching on what looks like a carrot stick, she sighs, not having noticed him just yet. Louis is not too keen to look in Harry’s direction.

“Ah, dunno,” Lara says, biting into the orange vegetable, “just miss her lots.”

So it’s about Ivana, Louis muses, unable to help from glancing at Harry’s stiff back. The way he concentrates more on the washing vegetables, Louis knows he hasn’t told her yet.

“University is a busy place, love.” Harry says, placing a handful of greens on a plate. “Talking is always good though.”

Louis blinks at that. Ironic, eh? He should step in and save Harry from the uncomfortable conversation.

However, he has no time to make himself noticeable by his own doing because in that moment, Lara looks over to him, brown eyes widening.

“Louis!” She cries out, hopping down and pulling him in a bone-crushing hug. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”  

He wraps his arms around her just as tightly, inhaling her perfume. “Yeah, yeah,” He mutters in her hair, before letting go and taking a step back. “Good to see ya, sweetheart.”

Louis thinks he hears Harry huffing at the endearment, Louis still isn’t looking his way though.

“Doubt that.” She says smiling, eyes flickering over his face. Louis tries to maintain a blank expression, hoping she won't pick up that something is off, “How’re you?”

“Great,” He lies, plastering his best, well-trained forced smile on his lips.“Y’know, all the fresh air out here, really does help.”  

“Fuck off, you spend more time in Manchester than I do.” She slaps at his shoulder.

“Can’t stay away from a city for too long.”

Lara rolls her eyes fondly. “See you at the weekend, yeah? Big party.” Making gun signs at him, she giggles.

Turning to Harry, she pats her bag that’s slung over her bony shoulder. “Thanks again, Haz.”  

Louis watches Lara kiss his cheek, then she’s off, out of the kitchen with another fond slap to Louis’ shoulder.

Alone with Harry, he shuffles forward, elbows propped on the breakfast bar, watching as the other boy starts chopping the greens.

“You didn’t tell her?” Louis assumes, starting with a safe topic.

Harry shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to the task at hand.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we…did?”

Again, Harry shakes his head.

Closing his eyes, Louis sighs. Even at the beginning it’s never been this awkward and tense between them.

“Can I help?”

Harry chuckles. “Oh no, last time you let the Mac-and-Cheese burn in the microwave.” Peeking at Louis again, he adds. “Don't want you to hurt yourself.”

Harry said something similar back in the alley, Louis recalls. He said it just as softly but now, in those green eyes is a glint of fondness.

“Fair enough,” Louis mutters rounding the bar, giving into the need to be closer to Harry. He hops on the counter, where Lara sat. “What’s all this?” Louis asks, nodding to the bowl full of healthy shit and the cutting board.

“Uh, making some lunch for us.” Harry falters, concentrating on cutting a pepper in half, taking out the seeds before dumping them in the rubbish bin.

“You didn’t have to, could’ve ordered in.” It’s all oddly domestic, Louis watching Harry prepare lunch and everything.

Harry frowns, a little pout on his lips. “I don’t mind, I like cooking.”

“Ohhh, do tell.” Louis teases, “A man cooking is always a sight.”

It lets the carved lines on Harry’s forehead disappear, but the small smile on his lips isn’t quite reaching the green of Harry’s eyes. Something is off, Louis can tell. Harry is regretting inviting him over. That’s it, isn’t it? The love bite on Harry’s neck still is plain red, a reminder between them of what happened the previous day.

Louis stares at it, licking his lips, remembering the salty taste of Harry’s skin.

“Louis.”

Looking up, he knows he’s been caught. Harry arches a brow, smile growing with it.

“What?” He rasps, clearing his throat. His neck flushes.

“Uh, hmm.” Harry squats down, getting a pan out of the cabinet. “I’m going to Manchester next week.”

“So...like always?” Louis’ brows knit together. _Like yesterday?_ He wants to add, but bites his tongue.

“Like… _always_ , yes.” Harry drawls, “You'll get your money due at the weekend.”

“Money?“ Louis' frown deepens. “What are you on about?”

Confused, Harry turns, pan still in hand. “Y'know, the whole point of helping me is so I can help get the money back?”

Right. Zayn, Money, Drugs.

“Oh,” Louis blinks, swallowing, “right, I forgot. Wait—”

Harry raises his brows in question, turning on the stove.

“Didn’t Zayn need the money, like last week?”

Harry chuckles humourlessly. “He did.”

“But…”

He shrugs, getting some flatbread out. “But. Zayn said he likes being on campus, so not to hurry.”

“Right.”

“‘S stupid.” Harry muses, flipping the bread that looks like a pancake. Louis is impressed by Harry’s skills. “You made more money than you need to pay back, anyway.”

“Did I?”

“Not that much. But. Yes,” Harry shrugs, not looking at Louis. “So you can quit ‘n Zayn goes back to London.”

Glancing at the food and back to Harry, the words sink in, settling deep in his stomach, making it turn. Harry not only wants to pretend nothing ever happened, but he wants to cut him out completely. The whole lunch-thing is a way to break it to Louis, letting him down gently.

Wow.

It fucking hurts, it stings. His chest is tight and his lungs refuse to work.

The drug deals are fun, it’s quick and easy money. Pills make people happy, coke makes them ramble and loosen up, marijuana relaxes them, and Louis _liked_ that. He liked being by Harry’s side, trotting down the pavement to a waiting car, sitting plastered next to him at a party, sipping cheap beer and…

They are a team. A great one, at that. Went there with a lot of drugs, left with pockets full of money.

“What…” Louis starts, licking his dry lips. “What if I wanna continue?”

Harry blinks at him with owlish eyes. It can’t have come as a total surprise, right?

“No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “No way.”

Frowning, Louis folds his arms, puffing out his chest. “Why the hell not?”

“If you’re in, you’re in. Remember?”

“I’m already doing it.” Louis counters, “What’s the difference?”

“You’re not listed, nobody knows about this.” Harry says, slowly, as if speaking to a child. “If they find out, there is no way out.” Shaking his head again, he places the pita on a plate, filling it with the green shit and vegetables.

“I don’t want out.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

“ _Harry_.” Louis grits through his teeth, bares them like an angry dog when Harry glares his way.

Abandoning the food, he steps towards Louis, boxing him in with his arms, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. They are nose to nose, Harry’s eyes feverish.

“No.” He states with a firm voice.

“Yes.”

“I won’t let you do that.”

Lifting his chin a bit, Louis narrows his eyes. “Why? I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” He says with challenge in his voice.

 _Say it, say you want me gone._ Louis dares Harry to. He just needs to hear those words and he’ll leave it be. He’ll get up right this second and never turn back. Louis can find something else that fills the void inside him, it's fine.

It's not, of course it isn't.

They stare at each other, sizing each other up. The silence between them is filled with spine prickling tension. The closeness is itchy. Louis wants to reach out and touch his cheek, to place his finger where normally Harry’s dimple shows.

There is no goddamn air in this fucking kitchen. Harry should get it checked.

Licking his pink lips, Harry blinks down. Rubbing the side of his nose. “What about Lottie?”

Not expecting that, Louis makes a small noise. “What about her?”

“What’ll she say if she ever finds out?”

Harry fucking knows this is unfair. Well, if he’s going to play dirty, so is Louis.

“She won’t.” He brushes it aside, frowning so deeply his forehead hurts. “Maybe I should join Zayn, instead. Go back to London, be Zayn’s little helper bee.”

Harry’s face pales at that, shaking his head so fast that his curly locks swing from side to side. “I won’t let that happen. _Ever_.”

“Harry.”

“You’re not going back to London to join a _gang_.” Harry spits the words out like dirt. Stepping back, he ruffles his hair with a long-suffering sigh, chuckling hollowly. “Don't be that stupid.”

“You do it, too.”

Swallowing, Harry chooses his next words carefully, not looking at Louis. He says with a wavering voice. “It's different, you just want the kick.”

“And what do you want?” Louis brows lift up to his hairline. “You can earn money with a normal day job too, so why drugs?”

“‘S not like I woke up one day and said, _hey, selling drugs is my purpose_. No,” Harry bristles, “I…” when he looks up, his eyes are glossy, “I had dreams too.”

Louis is a dickhead.

But before he can apologise for his big fat mouth, Harry picks up again, on a roll now that he’s started.“I don’t want that for you.” He sniffs. “Sometimes life just…gets in the way of dreams and goals and sometimes there is no damn way out, okay? I had to do this. I had to.” He licks his lips, glancing at the floor, toes curling inward. “You don’t have to, so you shouldn’t.”

“Harry, what happened?” Louis breathes, thinking he’s pushing his luck in trying to get answers about the boy and is crossing an invisible line between the two.

“I can’t talk about this anymore.” Harry says flatly, eyes cold. “Food is ready in a bit, let’s just…” He trails off, turning around to the stove.

Louis can’t stomach any food, but he nods and jumps off the counter, rounding Harry in a safe distance. “Alright. I’m starving.”  He lies, watching Harry roll two fajitas.

Every time Harry opens up, there is another closed door behind the newly opened one, a fresh layer of protection and Louis just wants Harry to trust him, even when they don't share the same feelings for each other. They still are friends. Just like Zayn said - friends tell each other stuff.

Friendship is about trust and being there for each other, right?

Louis is an impatient and nosy person by nature, needs to know everything, nothing can wait, it has to happen now, not in a week or later on. But looking at Harry, seeing the stiff shoulders of the boy and the sad pout on his lips, Louis withdraws. He will wait, if it’s Harry. Louis would wait until death is knocking on his door.

So yeah, Louis knows he’s in too deep for the boy who wants to cut lines with him, but Louis is stubborn. If he really wants something, he’ll get it eventually. He won’t force Harry to spill or be with him by any means but he will stick around patiently, like never before. He will show Harry that it is okay.

The best way to do so is to expose yourself. If Harry really wants to get rid of Louis, then he's got nothing to lose anyway.

When they are seated side by side on the couch, plates placed on their thighs and stuffing their faces with the already cold but still tasty fajitas, Louis thinks it’s The-Time.

Time to speak.

Swallowing his bite and licking some sauce off his thumb, he settles his gaze on Harry.

Going by the motto Go Big or Go Home, he inhales deeply.

“My parents don’t like the fact that I’m gay.”

There is a moment of silence.

Louis can’t look at Harry right now, so he lowers his eyes to the half eaten fajita on his plate. He chuckles humourlessly, “I think it was my biggest mistake to…y’know, come out to them.” He swallows, remembering it too clearly for his likening. Mark’s reaction doesn’t hurt as much as his mother's. “I thought they’d accept me. Like, they…my mother had those big future plans for me and apparently, being gay ruined everything. One little fact changed everything.”

“Louis—”

“So, they sent me here,” He leaves out the accident, he leaves out the night in jail. “Because Lottie and Tommy are my mothers…little awards I guess? They are normal and so successful.” He sighs, “I’m truly proud of my sister, I love her.”

“I never thought anything else, Louis.” Harry puts a careful hand on his shoulder, “I know you love her.”

“My mother wants me to be like them. Like Tommy, I guess.” Louis shrugs. Harry’s hand slides off Louis and into his own lap.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay.”

“Says a gay man.” Louis counters darkly, knowing he’s being unfair. Hurt flashes over Harry’s face. “But I know that, I know there is nothing wrong with it.” Louis draws in air, releasing it through his nose, he continues, “I like being gay.”

Harry nods. “Your parents are wrong. Not you.”

“Still, they thought if I spend time around Lottie and Tommy, I’ll see what I’m missing out on, or something and whoops — I’m not gay anymore.” He rolls his eyes, “I mean, yeah, it’s true.” He fixes his eyes on the telly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry open his mouth but before Harry can say anything, he proceeds. “It is working, I want that, too. Like a relationship? I never had that, and Lottie and Tommy made me want that.” It’s not a lie, seeing his sister and her husband together opened his heart to the idea of getting together with someone himself…just like he’d dreamed about before starting Uni. However, the real reason his thoughts wandered in that direction is Harry.

Which…won’t ever happen, Louis guesses. The fact that Harry felt the need to apologise for the way he kissed Louis and touched him is answer enough.

“Just, with a man,” Louis finishes lamely, “not with a woman.”

Harry swallows. “You deserve that, Lou.”

Blinking, Louis looks at him, giving Harry a half-smile. “Thank you.”

“C’mere,” Harry places their plates on the coffee table and opens his arms for Louis.

Not having to be asked twice, Louis scoots closer, letting Harry’s arms wrap around him tightly.

“Thanks for telling me.” Harry whispers in his hair.

Louis swallows, feeling too much at home in Harry’s arms. That someone he wants to be with is right here and he has no idea, he doesn’t feel the same and Louis takes advantage right there and then.

This was supposed to be a poke, so that Harry would start talking, not the other way around. Louis ponders over his words, blinking and pressing closer to Harry, hoping he hasn’t said too much.

 

*   *   *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked it, that'd be lovely, thank you*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happpppy monday my loves!! it's officially my birthday (10.September) - so yay, I guess, haha (that's also the reason why I post a bit earlier than usual today). 
> 
> I want to thank you guys for reading my fic and all the feedback, comments, kudos and messages I have gotten over the past weeks, you all are amazing! hugs, flowers and candy all around, enjoy the new chapter and let me know what you guys think of it xxx

 

 

***   *   ***

 

By the time the sun sinks low in the horizon and dips the sky in a pastel orange and cotton candy pink, the woeful mood has worn off. The two men are sitting outside, their fingers curling around bottles of beer with an ashtray placed between them, overflowing with stumped out cigarettes.

They haven't mentioned the little bit conversation about Louis’ parents and their expectations. Harry doesn't ask questions and Louis isn't revealing more, which is for the better, he reckons. Feeling the mellow whir of alcohol in his bloodstream and the slight evening breeze, he can’t say anything other than the fact he’s somehow happy. Or, at least, he’s getting there. The silence between the two is filled with understanding, both of them knowing not to press any of the sore topics.

There is one thing that has been bugging Louis for a week. Peering over at Harry’s profile, he opens and closes his mouth.

“We should tell Lara.” He mumbles, taking a sip of his beer. Swallowing, he wipes his mouth. “I’ve started to be awkward around her, ditched her so many times.” A hot ball of culpability piles in the bottom of his stomach at the thought and he tries to quench it with more booze.

Harry sends him a wary look. “It’s not our secret to tell.”

Louis shrugs absently. “If she finds out we knew…” He trails off, “If I were in her position, I’d want my friends to tell me, s’all.” He finishes after a stretched tick of silence.

“Lara wouldn’t believe us.”

“She knows we mean good.”

“Louis,” Harry admonishes, “Ivana bought drugs off you.”

“I’m aware.” Louis’ brows furrowed, not understanding the connection.

“She’s never done that before.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.” Louis brushes it off with a scruff, “So what?”  

“She’s always been mad when Lara takes ‘em.” Harry mutters, somberly. “‘S just weird.”

Shaking his head, Louis has no idea how to answer. He’s known Lara for around three limited weeks, whilst Harry and her share a bond of friendship probably over _years_. Figuring Harry knows best, he leaves it at that, but the weird ball in his abdomen stays, even when he’s downed his second beer.

The thing is, Louis would rather think about Lara’s situation than his own; guilt feels better than heartbreak. Sitting so close to the boy who’s the cause of Louis’ pain doesn’t help…at all.

Harry’s body heat licks at his skin, basically radiating off his bare arms, his usual spicy cologne having developed into something that smells fragrant mixed with the scent of cannabis. The whole combination is consuming his senses to the point where Louis has to remind himself to breathe in and out evenly, hyper-aware of his shuddering heartbeat and raw throat, his increased pulse pounding as he struggles to swallow normally.

He places the empty bottle between his feet, taking out another cigarette and offering the pack to Harry who takes one with a small smile as a silent thanks. Nicotine mixed with alcohol is one of his favourite things, making his mind dizzy. He feels his shoulders relax after the second drag.

Not seeking a second fight but wanting to say something, Louis observes Harry’s face, the way Harry is staring out into the sunset, his mind elsewhere.

“You said there is another drug deal tonight?”

Harry nods once, “Weed…again,” snorting in amusement, he peeks at Louis, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly. “Macclesfield is a total stoner town.”

“They know what’s good.” Louis’ own smile is growing with the thought, “Not what I’d expected.”

“What did you expect?” Harry arches a single brow, green eyes twinkling.

“Priests and farmers, church on Sunday…” He grins full on when Harry snorts a chuckle, “old grumpy man out front, reading the news, neighbours asking for sugar and flour on the regular.”

“Instead you’ve got a town full of bored teenagers smoking grass in their basements and old ladies entertaining themselves with massive pink dildos.”

Louis snorts a very unattractive laugh at the memory. Harry watches silently, a small fond smile licking on his lips. Louis sobers as he remembers what came after they found that monster of a dildo.

“ _Samantha!_ ” He calls quietly imitating the high pitched voice of the woman. “ _Sammy_!”  

Harry cackles. “ _That_ fuckin’ _cat_.” He groans, covering his face with his palm.

“Thought it was gonna rat us out.”

“Full on attack us.” Harry plays along with a nudge of his shoulder. “Caught by the nosy cat.”

“At least it wasn’t a dog,” Louis chuckles, “that wouldn’t’ve turned out well.”

“Could’ve thrown the dildo,” Harry snickers, “in place of a stick.”

“Oh my god,” Louis’ jaw slackens, he shakes his head, gasping. “It _chewing_ on it…“ The picture of a dog innocently biting on the dildo, getting drool all over it, is clear in his mind  and makes him bubble out a laugh. “Could you imagine?”

Harry laughs out loud, “Gross, absolutely gross.” His eyes widen as he giggles out, “And her using it after…because she didn’t know?”

They both cringe in unison at the disturbing line of thought.

“Christ.” Louis mutters.

Harry chuckles, then frowns, “Hey.” Harry starts, slowly. He watches until Louis glances at him. “Isn't Samantha the name of that woman from _Sex in the City_?”

Louis tilts his head, thinking. “Oh!” He snaps his fingers, face lightening up. “The sex obsessed one?”

They look at each other, then erupt in another round of delighted laughter.

“Kind of fits.” Louis snickers, scrubbing a hand over the whole of his face. “I haven't watched that movie in a long time.” Louis says, “Samantha always was my favourite, though.”

“We should watch the movie sometime, then.” Harry says with a quiet giggle. “I never got around to watching the actual show.”

“They made a show?” Louis asks, surprised. When Harry just looks weirdly at him, he exclaims, “what do I know, Harold?”

“The movies are based on the show. It's common knowledge, _Lewis_.”

“Wait, there’s a second movie?”

Harry groans, then chuckles. “Yes.” When Louis opens his mouth, Harry cuts him off, “we can watch that one too.”

Pleased, Louis nods and ruffles Harry's hair. “Thanks for educating me. Thought there was a reason I hang with you.”

Harry shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Can't have you go through life without seeing the iconic movies. I'd die unhappy.” He sighs, smile dropping. “Anyway, I think we’d better get going.”

Louis pouts but doesn't put up a fight. How could he? There is no reason to complain, when deals mean more time spent in Harry's pocket.

Finishing their cigarettes, they get ready to deliver pot, shoes on their feet, jackets slung over their shoulders and sunglasses shielding their eyes, although the sun is almost gone by now. They march to the car, hopping inside and speeding down the street.

Louis is much more relaxed by now, sauntering towards the car, leaning forward in the open window, wrists lazily crossed like the paws of a tiger. He grins at the chubby face of Bianca, blue bug-eyes smiling right back at him.

“So so,” He teases, “having a weed-date, I see.” He mutters at the guy in the passenger seat as he glances over the rim of his sunglasses.

Bianca shrugs. “Not a date,” she corrects him, “just a _friend_.”

“I _see_.” Louis grins, the guy smiling at him in return. He’s quite tough looking, arms the size of Louis’ thigh. He’s basically a walking muscle with brown eyes.

“Well, you could hang with us?” Bianca offers. Louis is still watching the guy, seeing the smile turn to a fake one the moment he heard the words, brown eyes staring Louis down, daring him to accept the offer.

“Ah, got some plans already,” Louis says, seeing the guy relax against the seat. “Harry’s waiting.” With that, he lets the pack of weed plop in Bianca’s lap. “But you guys have fun, eh.” For good measure he winks knowingly at the bloke, who sends a relieved grin in return.

“You and Harry is it then?” Bianca asks seriously, her eyes taking up most of her face. She has nice lips, like a cartoon character who kicks arse at nighttime.

Shrugging, Louis pockets the given money, “Ah, don’t think so.” He says as casually as possible. It still stings though.

When he glances up at Bianca, her eyes dart from a point over his shoulder back to his face, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. “Yeah, looks like it.” She says, “ _Anyway_ , see you next week.”

Louis doesn’t mention that he might not be here next week, and steps away from the shabby car, saluting them and winking once more when he catches the guy's eye.

Turning, he walks back to Harry, who leans against the side of the bread van, ankles crossed, eyebrows arched over the rim of his sunglasses. A cigarette is dangling from his lip and Louis takes it between his own, taking a long drag, just like he did the first night he did business with Bianca.

“Nice chat?” Harry asks, taking his cig with careful fingers, not wanting to let it drop. “Who was that bloke?”

“Her soon-to-be-boyfriend.” Louis shrugs, poking Harry's side, making him smile. “It's a non-date.”

“Went on those, too.” Harry smirks around the cigarette butt, taking the last drag and throwing it away. “Always fun.”

Louis has no interest in getting more information about that topic, so he says, “Where to now?”

“Stoner-Face,” Harry mumbles, opening the car door for Louis, which he’s done before, but it still makes Louis' stomach flutter. He refuses to call it butterflies, but it’s a close call.

Stoner-face is a big guy, laid back at the best of times even when he’s not on weed, his large almond formed eyes only half-opened.

Louis chuckles, sliding onto the seat, fumbling with the radio when Harry starts the van.

After they meet up with Stoner-face in a parking lot in the next town, they don’t drive immediately back to Macclesfield. They pass nothing but fields as they ride along the road, blasting Nirvana so loud it causes the car to vibrate underneath them.

When they pass another field, Harry turns onto the path, slowing his speed and turning the music down until it’s just a low background noise along with the rattle of the motor.

It’s nighttime now, their only company the stars dotted on the inky black cloudless sky. Louis wonders, looking up in awe, how long the weather will last this time around.

When the van comes to a halt, Harry hops out, letting the keys dangle from the ignition. Louis taps his fingers on the armrest, glancing outside, only making out grass and darkness, no sign of Harry whatsoever.

Sighing to himself, he gets out of the car too, closing the door more softly than Harry had.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, hands on hips, eyeing the blanket on the ground.

Harry, who’s hunched over to tug on the corner of said blanket, glances at him over his shoulder then back to the task at hand. He gets two pillows out of the bunk, carelessly throwing them on the blanket. Watching them bounce in place, Louis fights off a smile.

He bites down, but it’s a lost battle. Smiling so wide he feels it must be splitting his face, he shakes his head fondly, “Oh dear,” He breathlessly comments, when Harry places an all too familiar plastic container on one of the pillows, lighter flying after.

Watching the stars while being high, in a field in the middle of nowhere, looks dangerously close to a non-date.

The fluttering feeling inside of his tummy is back and he rubs over it, trying and failing to smooth it out.

The butterflies go all wild when Harry finally looks at him with mischievous eyes.

“When did you pack all this?” Louis asks, noticing that there’s wrapped sandwiches too. He can’t remember seeing Harry stock the car with any of this.

Harry looks sheepishly to the ground, dragging the tip of his shoe over the dirt. “When you were pissing.”

Louis cackles at the bluntness, “Alright, let’s get high.”

So they do, sharing two joints, munching away on the sandwiches whilst the stars watch from above.

“’S beautiful.” Louis mumbles, feeling calm like the environment he’s in. They are so far from the main road, he isn't able to hear any cars. No honking. No wheels on the street. Nothing.

“It is.” Harry agrees, a coy smile on his face, looking straight at Louis. He’s not sure if they’re talking about the same thing.

Louis chuckles, thought forgotten and replaced by a new one. “I don’t wanna go home,” he pouts. “Wanna stay ‘ere. Not fancying runnin’ into Lots.”

“We can stay here.” Harry says seriously, eyes too intense in the moonlight. A moment passes, then Harry looks down at his half eaten sandwich. “Or…we could go back to mine? Together?”

Louis laughs quietly, missing Harry’s hopeful expression in favour of looking up at the sky. “So you can ghost on me again?” When Harry doesn’t respond, he fixes his eyes on Harry’s face, seeing the frown there which makes him frown in return. The weed is making his heavy tongue loose and he’d regret the words if he wasn’t so high and buzzing.

“I told you, I’m sorry about that.” Harry mutters.

Blinking his drooping lids, his frown deepens much more. “Whatcha mean?”

“Uh? On the phone…?” Harry alludes, a tad confused. “I told you I’m sorry about just…leaving, was a dick move after the whole…“ He clears his throat, unsure. “Day.”

Damn, Louis is too high, his brain turning to mush with every spoken word.

He blinks, once, twice. Then he breaks his stare from Harry, and looks up again.

“Fuck you, Harry.” Louis says at the stars, as seriously as he can muster, in that dizzy-fizzy state he is in. Mushy brain or not, he’s the most serious he has been in a while. This is a serious topic and he was _so_ mad at Harry this morning, _so_ goddamn heartbroken.

When he looks back at Harry, the boy stares at him aghast, his big green eyes matching the size of Bianca’s bug-eyes.

“What?”

Not understanding what Harry isn’t getting, he’s the one blinking, feeling his own face fall. The situation is clear, why would Harry ask that?

“I…I thought,” Harry licks his lips, eyes downcast. His finger curls into the soft fabric of the blanket, making it wrinkle. “I thought…”

_Fuck weed,_ he’s never been a weed-type of guy, it makes his brain slow, and he’s not sure if he zoned out and didn’t catch Harry’s words or if Harry just stopped talking.

Trying hard to remember simple English words, he puffs out hot air.

Words.

English.

Language.

It should be easy to tell Harry his problem, and yet he just gazes at Harry, trying to read the boy’s mind when he can’t make out much of his own.

Showing his frustration with a kick to Harry’s shin, he thinks maybe that’s enough to make him understand.

Instead Harry pouts, rubbing the spot. “What the hell.”

“Why aren’t you listenin’?” Louis grumbles.

“You didn’t say anything,” Harry exclaims with a high voice.

Oh…so that’s the problem, they are not talking.

_Weed,_ Louis thinks darkly,  _I hate you._

“Well, thank you,” Harry glowers at him, “why didn’t you just say so?” He gets up and Louis can do nothing except look at him dumbfounded, he’s been thinking out loud then.

“Weed,” He forces his lips to express.

Harry frowns down at him, sighing. “Louis, you’re not making _any_ sense.”  

“I hate weed, not you,” Louis licks his dry lips, his throat burning with the need for water. “Could never hate you.”

“Right, I can see that.”

“I hated you this morning.” Louis continues matter-of-factly.

Harry rolls his eyes, “Great.”

“Didn’t feel great…”

“What? Louis, you’re bloody confusing when you’re high. If you wanna leave, then just say so.”

“Don’t wanna leave,” Louis pouts, making grabby-hands at Harry. When he’s got hold of the hem of his shirt, he tugs at it until the message he’s trying to send becomes clear and Harry sits heavily back on his little peach.

Arching a brow, Harry looks expectantly at him, and though his eyes are bloodshot, he doesn’t look as stoned as Louis feels.

Louis waits a long moment before he speaks, mulling over the words in his head, forming sentences that’d make sense to Harry, and finally settling on the most obvious, he opens his mouth. “I like you.”

“I like you too.” Harry responses without missing a beat.

“You have mood swings like no other but I like you.”

“Gee, wow, thanks Lou.” Harry says with a playful pretty pout.

“My point is,” Louis says lifting a finger, “I…”

“Spill Louis, don’t be so dramatic.”  

Louis is not trying to be bloody dramatic, he says so to Harry who sticks his pink tongue out at him.

“All right, maybe you should sober up before we talk.”

That…is brilliant thinking, actually. Thank god Harry’s beautiful brain has come in useful - Louis’ mind is a bit paralyzed at this point.

“Don’t leave.” Louis pleads.

“I would never.”

“Liar.”

Harry grins, pushing Louis’ chest. He lays down easily, his fingers too enervated to fight anyway. Besides, laying down is a grand idea. Comfy.

The sky is pretty but Harry is prettier, so Louis sneaks a peek at him, patting the spot next to his body.

Harry crawls over the blanket, laying so close to Louis that he can feel his warmth. It’s getting colder and Louis needs some protection against that…yep, reason enough to snuggle close to his buddy-lad-pal or possibly the only person he'd like to know inside out.

To come home to.

Louis’ drunk on that thought, dizzy. Closing his eyes, he lets Harry manhandle him until his head rests on Harry’s broad sternum. An arm slings around his body, warm and solid and _Harry’s_.

Taking a profound breath, he lets the layer of sleep wash over him.

_Talk_ , he needs to _talk_ to Harry.

_Tomorrow_ , a voice promises, that sounds just like Harry’s. Bizarre, that.

There and then, with a melting feeling in his stomach and the knowledge the stars are watching over them, he falls fast asleep.

 

*   *   *

 

Smacking his lips together, he scrunches his nose, wiggling it. Louis is still asleep but he can feel himself waking up and he doesn’t want that. He’d rather stay in his little dream bubble, all at ease and cozy. He picks up on a movement next to him, underneath him too, and he frowns, not liking that either.

“Lou,”  a soft voice whispers. It’s still distant but it’s there.

Something needles his side and he tries to wiggle over, seeking peace for his slumber. He makes a distraught noise in the back of throat. The poking doesn’t abate and he grunts, half-heartedly swatting at whatever this irritating thing is that won’t let him sleep for another hour or so.

He hears a faint laugh, closer now than merely seconds earlier although just as tender.

It’s the last straw and awakes all his drained bones. Cracking one eye open, he sees nothing other than a plain white shirt, covering what looks like a long, endless torso, giraffe legs stretched out, naked toes wiggling.

“I know you’re awake.” Harry singsongs, poking Louis’ flank another time.

“‘M deep asleep,” Louis mumbles sleep-dunk, “’m dreaming.”

“Is it a nice dream?”

“Hm-mpf.”

“Are there angels singing and bells ringing?” a quiet laugh follows Harry’s hushed question.

“Giraffe,” Louis mutters, looking down at Harry's legs with both of his eyes.

“Oh beautiful animals.” Harry coos.

“The most beautiful,” Louis accedes, licking his lips. Such divine legs, he would love to straddle them, kiss them, map them out, _memorise_ them.

Groaning, he snuzzles more into Harry’s chest, because that’s where his head is resting and apparently that’s how he slept a full night. If he’s lucky, he can drag it out a tad. He doesn’t want to leave this place ever again. The more he comes to complete awareness of the situation, the more the exquisite spell evaporates.

Wait.

Shocked, he sits upright, startling Harry next to him.

He slept with Harry.

Well, _next_ to him, on him…on his bloody _chest_.

“Good morning,” Harry chirps, gloriously awake and apparently not bothered at all about the fact that Louis used his body as his personal pillow.

Gazing down at him, Louis smiles slightly, regressing his embarrassment. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Harry dimples.

“Good morning,”

Chuckling, Harry sits up too, fingers wrapping around his shins.

“Sleep well?”

“Best sleep ever,” which is true and Louis won’t think about why that is.

“Me too.” Harry agrees, still smiling easily, still so damn close.

He allows himself one last lingering moment to look intensely at Harry, taking him in. He doesn't know what will happen after this.

Harry’s hair is a messy bird’s nest on top of his head, standing up in every thinkable direction, curls extra curly and soft-looking in the early morning sun that lets his eyes illuminate luminously. His cheeks turn rosy the longer Louis keeps his eyes on him. Harry smoothes the wrinkles of his white shirt, which were caused by sleeping on the ground and having Louis on top of him all night.

Louis knows he doesn’t look any more presentable, so he sets on running his fingers through his tousled hair, bringing his attention to their location. They still are on the dirty pathway, surrounded by green and blue. Just like he remembers.

Rubbing the rest of his sleep out of his eyes, he glances at Harry again, seeing the other boy watching him. Careful eyes confirm that yesterday happened and the words are remembered on both ends. Louis wishes weed would work like alcohol: you can easily forget, or pretend you'd forgotten. It wasn't alcohol they consumed, so there is no way he can pull the “ _sorry I can't remember a thing_ ” card. Louis isn't sure if he'd want that to be honest. The look Harry sends him is indulgent and, after all, Louis _did_ _sleep on Harry._ The talk can't end too badly, right?

“Breakfast?” Harry asks but Louis can tell it isn’t the question he truly wanted to voice.

Louis nods, hearing his tummy growl in agreement.

Gathering their things while smoking good-morning-cigarettes, they are off.

 

*   *   *

 

“ _Sooo_ , am I interrupting yer date?” Niall waggles his brows, blue eyes twinkling joyously.

“You work here,” Harry drawls, his own brows knitting.

“Well, excuse _me_ for not wanting to third wheel.” Niall exclaims in faux-offence.

“It’s not a date,” Louis interjects, flexing his muscles to stop the red flush that’s creeping up his neck.  Niall’s bright knowing eyes tell him it’s not working.

“Sure it’s not,” the blonde lad laughs, cheerful as ever, “what can I get for ya?” Clicking his pen twice, he looks from Harry to Louis and back.

“Uhh...the usual,” Harry purses his lips, sending a questioning glance Louis’ way.

Shrugging, he nods, “Yeah, me too, whatever Harry’s usual might be.”

“Aww, that’s cute,” Niall says and Louis slumps in the chair. They shouldn’t have come to the diner. The thought seems to be mutual. Harry carefully avoids Louis’ eyes now and fixes his gaze on the table top.

Thanks Niall, for making it bloody awkward.

“Anyway,” Niall drags the word out, widening his eyes temporarily, “brekkie is ready in a minute,” Niall chirps into the too long silence, and with another flash of his toothy-smile, he’s off into the kitchen.

When Niall is out of earshot, Harry sighs, placing his elbows on the table.

There are not a lot people in the diner, a couple sharing some finger food in the booth next to them and an older gentleman sitting at the bar, reading the newspaper whilst sipping on his coffee. Louis watches him turn the page before he brings his attention to Harry.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Louis breaks under the green of Harry’s eyes, “I dumped my little My-Parents-Don’t-Love-Me sob story on you.” Just thinking about it makes Louis embarrassed all over again. He actually told Harry some part of his shitty life. He’s _never_ done this before. Not even Nick knows the truth. Harry didn't ask for it, Louis just wanted him to talk, but instead, the opposite happened and Louis is still in the unknown about Harry at all, whilst Harry knows already so, so much about Louis.

“No,“ Harry frowns. “I love knowing more about you.”

_I’d love to know more about you too_ , Louis thinks, _but you don’t let me in._

“I’m also sorry about everything that happened when I was high.” Louis says, changing topic, folding his hands.

“It’s okay,” Harry chuckles quietly, “we all say stuff we don’t mean while being high.”

Louis knows Harry is giving him an easy way out, but Louis is already shaking his head, because Harry doesn’t understand and Louis really wants him to, so.

They have to talk, don’t they? That's exactly what Louis wanted.

“No, I said things I don’t mean,” Louis starts again, swallowing as Harry’s face falls. Shit, that’s not a good start. Louis is bad with words before breakfast. “No, no!” He says quickly because Harry’s got it wrong — _again_.

“I don’t know what you—” Harry says just as Niall chimes in with, “Here ya go, _lovebirds_!”  as he places two plates of Eggs Benedict in front each of them.

Harry shakes his head, biting his tongue, his attention still on Louis, though Niall is standing next to their table, expecting something more than the quiet _Thank You_ Louis mumbled.

“Anything else?” Niall asks, oblivious to the tension that hangs like fog over the table.

“No, thanks,” Harry gives his friend a thin smile, giving a weak thumbs up. “All good.”

The ‘ _please leave_ ’, goes unsaid but is understood just as clearly. Niall grins at them, pats Louis’ shoulder, and is off once more.

Looking back at Harry, Louis picks up his fork, no appetite whatsoever but at least he’s got something to concentrate on, other than his racing heart.

Before Harry can say a word, Louis speaks, “No, listen.” Louis licks his lips, “When you called yesterday morning and said you’re sorry I thought it was…” He looks down at his food. “About the day. You know?” The kissing, the touching, the almost _there_ but never _quite_. When Harry nods, Louis continues. “I thought you meant you were sorry about that, not about leaving me in your house.”

Harry shakes his head, wildly. “No, _no_. That’s not what I meant. I…felt shit for just ditching you without telling.” He swallows thickly. “Not about the day…or,” He avoids Louis' gaze, looking down at his own untouched food. “The, uh. Other…days.”

Louis has never done this before, talking about feelings or actions. Mostly he stayed mute with the guys he’d been with, just fucking and leaving, maybe seeing them for another round…but that was it. Everybody knew what they were getting and that was most likely _not_ his heart.

His heart now is skipping beats like it can’t choose if it wants to stop or fly out of his chest.

And they haven’t even had sex yet. _Damn_.

Stabbing some egg onto his fork and glancing over to Harry, who still isn’t looking at Louis, he says, “Well, let’s eat, huh?” And they do, slowly, both of them not hungry at all. The tension doesn’t leave and Louis can feel the curious glances Niall is throwing their way. When the Irish lad passes their table, he eyes them not so subtly and Louis thinks, this place is not the right place to talk anyway.

He glares at Niall as he catches his eyes, and the blond one pouts.

“What are we doing today?” Louis asks, playing around with the last bit of his breakfast.

“Uh…” Harry leans back in his chair, already done with his food, “I have to go to Manchester.”

Louis sighs. “Another party?”

Harry shakes his head, “No…you don’t have to come.”

Clicking his tongue, he lays his fork next to his plate, mirroring Harry’s posture. They were talking about not being sorry, what happened, and _still_ Harry won’t open the fuck up. What could be in Manchester he’s running off to?

His first thought is a bit ridiculous, but— “D’you have someone there?”

“Like a boyfriend?” Harry chuckles, already shaking his curly head, “Nah.”  

“Then what is it?” Boundaries, Louis is overstepping boundaries.

Green eyes meet his and he knows Harry won’t tell by the hardness of them.

“Okay, don’t tell me. Wasn’t my place to ask anyway,” Which is true, some kisses won’t change that fact. Besides they’ve known each other for a little over three weeks and were arseholes during the beginning. So yeah, Louis should understand why Harry still isn’t trusting Louis with personal stuff.

“’S nothing against you, Lou,” Harry says carefully, “it's just very-”

“No…I get it.” Louis interjects before Harry can say more because he doesn’t owe Louis anything. Even if his heart disagrees. “When are you leaving?”

Apologetically, he rubs his neck and Louis knows it's right after breakfast, leaving them no more time to talk about feelings or whatever. Louis nods though, because he isn't a total dickhead.

“Alrighty then, let’s get going.”

Niall’s teasing mood has sobered up by the time they're leaving, thankfully. He cleans their table whilst sending small smiles at Louis, as if he knows exactly what’s going on in Louis’ mind. Which can’t be true, because Louis doesn’t even know that himself.

 

*   *   *

 

“Thanks for the ride.” Louis says.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Sorry again for last night and…thank you for last night.”

Harry shrugs, one hand still on the wheel, the other rubbing his neck sheepishly. “S’okay. Everyone gets a bit confused when they’re on weed - that’s why it’s fun usually.” His dimple pops out and Louis knows then that Harry is not mad or anything and means what he’s saying.

He returns the smile. “Have a safe drive.” He says, opening the door but not getting out just yet.

“I’ll call you.”

“You better.” Louis grins, finger twitching to reach out and touch, _always_ craving to touch. That’s what he wants but like knowing what Harry is doing in Manchester, it's not his place to do so.

Harry leans over then, kissing Louis' cheek that warms with the gentle press of lips, his smile growing when Harry sits back in his seat, a shy smile on his face.

“See you later, H.” It takes all the willpower he’s got to bring himself to hop out of the van. When he swings the door shut behind him, he hears Harry calling out to him.

Turning around, Harry lets the window down, leaning across the armrest, “Gonna see you tonight when I get back, yes?”

“Okay.”

They share a smile, another moment passes whilst they just stare at each other with something like fondness in their eyes and then Harry nods, rolling the window back up and starting the motor.

Louis watches him drive down the street until he’s around the corner and out of view.

Pursing his lips, he stands unmoving on the spot for another heartbeat, not keen to go into the house. Lottie’s car is parked in the driveway and… no, he does not want to talk. He also doesn’t know what to say.

However, he walks up the three steps, ringing the bell because he forgot not only his phone but his set of keys, too.

The door opens in slow motion, just like in a movie.

“Hello _brother_.” Lottie raises an eyebrow, and Louis sighs, exhausted.

He loves his sister but…

“Don’t wanna talk.”

“Well, you gotta tell me where you’ve been…all night.” He actually sees her blue eyes flash red, yeah apparently that’s possible, it seems.

“Nope, went out with a friend. Slept outside on a field. The usual.” Passing her, he smiles cheekily.

“You slept… _where?_ ”

“Outside like the true country boy I am now. Became friends with the birds and the insects.”

“Louis, you can’t just stay out a full night without contacting me.”

“Forgot my phone, sorry.” Louis says unapologetically, shrugging silently.  

She sighs, crossing her arms, pinning him with a glare.

They have a staring battle, her eyes narrow as his eyebrows raise and she huffs, turning towards the kitchen, following her, he hops onto the counter.

“Mum called again.” She says, concentrating on boiling water. “Asked for you.”

“She calls awfully often these days, what’s happening to her?” Louis swings his legs, “It’s like she actually has a heart and misses me.” He widens his eyes dramatically and earns a dark glower from his sister in return. He sighs, his playful mood subsiding quickly. “What did you tell her?”

She sends him an annoyed look over her bony shoulder before turning back to the water, “You’re sleeping.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, she believed that, didn’t she?”

“Yep,” She says popping the p, getting two cups out of the cabinet. “You sleep more than a newborn baby.”

“Fair enough,” He mutters, swaying his legs and letting his heels bang against the counter.

“Louis, I’m glad you’ve made friends. Lara’s a sweet girl and I know you’re hanging out with Liam and Niall.” She pours water over the tea bags. “But I’d like for you to stay at home overnight.” She hands him the mug, fixing Louis with another of her stern glares and he stops swinging his legs, crossing his ankles instead.

Blinking down at his steaming tea, he purses his lips. “I’m twenty.” Is all he says, because that’s all there is to voice out loud. He’s an adult, he doesn’t have to be home at a certain time.

She shakes her blonde head. “Doesn’t matter, you could be meeting up with junkies for all I know.”

If only she knew how right she was. Louis keeps his mouth shut, lips pressed into a firm line, a suffocating lump growing in his throat.

“I only want the best for you, Lou. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He says automatically.

Lottie smiles, blue eyes soften. “I know.”

“Good,” feeling brave he adds, “so you can trust me.” Which she really shouldn’t because now he’s not only taking drugs but also selling that shit. She really, _really_ shouldn’t trust Louis. She has every right to distrust him.

Sighing, her shoulders hunch. “I’m trying.”

Louis nods, taking a sip of his tea, burning his tongue.

“I’m just worried.”

Will she ever let it go? He rolls his eyes at her. He's getting annoyed. “Dunno what Mum told you…” he muses, “but it’s not as bad as she thinks it is.” Ephemeral, he grins at her, hoping it doesn't look as forced as it feels. “She's being dramatic.”

“You were in jail.”

“Yes? What is your point, dear sister?”

“Don’t you think you took it too far?”

Yes.

“No, I just had a _very_ bad, unlucky night.”

“Normally, bad nights don’t end in jail.”

“Sometimes they do.” He shrugs.

Lottie huffs, putting her tea down and crossing her arms. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Just trust me a bit more,” Louis repeats, knowing she will give in any moment, so he presses. “C’mon Lots, I’m already away from London and you know I love people.”

“I mean…Lara is a nice girl.”

“The very best.” Louis agrees quickly, nodding.

“And Niall is lovely, too.” Lottie says thoughtfully, tapping her lip. “A little ray of sunshine, that one.”

“Liam is super nice as well.” He adds, “And an excellent student. Did you know he studies politics? He’s going to save the world someday.”

“Okay, Louis.” Lottie gives in, “By the way, I’m glad you’re taking those classes on campus.”

He’d almost forgot about that.

“Oh _yeah_ , I have to choose one soon.” He lies, blinking.

“Which one d’you like best?” She asks, taking his empty cup and placing it in the sink.

“Uh,” rubbing his neck, he thinks. For the love of God, he can’t remember the courses he’d told her about. “Drama?” It comes out as a question.

“Knew you’d like that one best.” Lottie nods, satisfied, “You've always been a bit of a drama queen.”

“Just like you.”

They share a quiet smile.

“ _So_ why aren’t you saving lives today?” Louis asks to shift the attention away from him.

“Nightshift,” Lottie rolls her eyes, pouting.

“That blows…” Louis sighs, but secretly he’s pleased because that means she won’t be there when he leaves to see Harry tonight.

“Tommy will be home tonight, though.” She sends him another loaded look and he restrains the urge to roll his eyes.

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing, Louis,” Lottie huffs offended, washing her hands, “just saying.”

“Alright-o, I’m off.” He says, sliding off the counter.

“Where to?” Lottie quirks an eyebrow at him in the same way he throws that look at people.

“Shower? Brushing my teeth?” He says, backtracking towards the door.

Lottie nods slowly. “Gonna stay in tonight?”

He shrugs. “Dunno yet,” Sending her a daring look, he leans against the doorframe.

His sister purses her pink lips, leveling him up. He keeps his expression carefully blank.

“Okay, whatever.” Lottie waves him off.

Returning to his room, he undresses quickly, padding into the bathroom in only his boxers.

Humming, he opens the cabinet, taking four pills out of the little orange bottle and frowns when he notices it’s nearly empty.

“A shame,” He murmurs delicately, before swallowing them dry and placing the bottle back. Closing the cabinet, he turns on the shower, brushing his teeth whilst he waits for the water to heat up.

After a more than relaxing shower, the hard knot in his shoulders has gone and his neck doesn't sting every time he moves his head. He's all clean from any dust and dirt and smells fresh instead of mushy. He shaved too, which he hadn’t done in a while. His face looks so much younger without the stubble, and Louis isn’t sure if he likes it or not.

Laying languidly on the bed, he scratches his still damp chest. The good mood wears off quick enough to make his head fuzzy, which honestly, could be the pills, too. However, Louis knows the sinking feeling only too well by now. He can tell from the way his chest is heavy that it’s not the pills, but his mind.

Louis doesn’t want to feel like utter shit. He’s felt like that too many times in the past three weeks. He also thought he’d been doing better since he’d started hanging out with Harry and has been getting another kick out of selling drugs.

Nonetheless, he is alone now and that’s the reason his mind starts acting up.

He is lonely and he craves not to be.

So he rolls onto his side, using his upper arm as a pillow and reaches out for his phone on the nightstand.

He tugs on his soft hair at his neck whilst he waits patiently for it to come to life.

The first message he sees is from Harry, just a simple ‘ _arrived in Manchester, don’t have too much fun w/o me.’_ He quickly replies that he could never have too much fun without Harry and clicks on the second message.

It’s from Lara, sent two hours ago.

Instead of texting back, he hits the call button.

“ _Hel-lo-ho?_ ” She sing-songs, picking up only after the third ring.

“Hey, what are you doing right now?”

“Nothing, don’t have work until tonight, why? Did Harry ditch you?”

Louis frowns. “Why?”

“You were ditching me the entire week.” She states matter-of-factly. “I’m surprised you’re calling.”

“Not true, I’ve been just busy.”

“With Harry.”

Well— “Yes…but that has nothing to do with him, more with business and stuff.”

“Business, huh?” She teases, Louis can hear her smile through the line. Which means she’s not too mad about it. Good.

He nods before remembering she can’t see him and says quickly, “So you wanna hang or what?”

Pondering it, she hums. Louis narrows his eyes.

“Guess I’m free.” She says finally, the teasing tone in her voice still apparent.

“Great, I’m honoured.”

“Anyway,” He can basically see her brown eyes rolling at him. “You wanna hang at Harry’s house?”

Louis frowns once more. “But...he's not home?”

“Yeah…” She drags the word out, “And?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird when we’re in his house without him?”

“We do this all the time, it’s nothing new.”

Louis rolls his eyes, rubbing his palm over his face, still weirded out by the smoothness of skin, missing the little needles that used to dig into his fingerpads. “All right, swing by yours in ten.”

“See you.” She chirps.

They hang up and Louis spends another long beat just laying on the bed like a paralyzed starfish.

He guesses being at Harry's house for the day is making it up for not spending time with him in person. Not creepy, or anything.

 

*   *   *

 

Well, okay. The house feels thoroughly empty without Harry’s presence. That’s the first and most important thing Louis notices when he plops his arse down in the living room, stretching on the comfy sofa like a lethargic cat.

He still doesn’t understand why Harry lets his friends hang out in his family home when he’s away. Louis could never do that. His mother would have his head, if she ever found out.

Also, he’s learned over the past weeks that they’re not the same, their _families_ probably are not the same. So maybe that makes it okay to be in the house that belongs to the boy he adores.

“Beer or something stronger?” Lara asks, sticking her head out of the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

“Whatever you’re having.” He says absently, glancing around the living room, as if it’s the first time he’s ever been in here.

His attention is drawn to the pictures on the bookshelf. Getting up to his feet, he ambles over, gazing at the beautiful woman next to a younger version of Harry. Both of them are smiling brightly into the camera, dimples out, curly hair framing their faces. They look so much alike. Their smile is the same, the dimples are the same too.

They’re dressed in summer clothes, the woman — who Louis is sure must be Harry’s mum — is wearing a flowery dress that reaches her knees. Harry wears a blazer, white shirt underneath, buttoned up to his collar, dress shoes reflecting the sun.

It has to be his graduation day or something.

Glancing over to the next picture, he sees the same age looking Harry next to a girl, who looks a few years older than him. Both of them are wearing cheeky smiles, laughing at the camera. Their arms are wrapped around each other, looking genuinely happy.

Louis frowns, he didn’t know that Harry has a sister.

The third picture is of a black cat with white spots in its fur, pink tongue licking its dark paw. Louis blinks, glancing around as if the cat is gonna show up and attack him for prying into Harry’s life without his knowledge or permission.

The cat doesn’t jump him, rather he spots Lara, shoulder supporting her weight against the frame of the kitchen door. Eyes flickering between Louis and the pictures, he can’t read her expression but the grip she has on the whiskey bottle hints he should take a step back from the shelf.

He feels like he’s been caught doing something naughty, and hot shame puddles in his belly though he’s not sure what he’s done wrong. After all, those pictures are displayed in the living room for anyone to see.

“Uhm…” Louis rubs his neck, his cheeks warming. “Whiskey, huh?” He asks nodding to the bottle, trying to gain back some calmness.

Lara just shrugs, it’s too casual for her occlude expression.

“Why not, don’t have to work ‘til late.”

“What’s your job again?” Louis thinks he’s never asked before.

Sitting on the sofa, she fills two mugs with the liquor, pointedly ignoring Louis’ amused snort - seriously, two normal drink glasses would have done the job just fine.

“I deliver pizza,” Lara declares, handing him a mug with a faded star printed on it. “Not the best job in the world,” wrinkling her nose, she adds, “I always smell like grease when I clock off.”

He gulps some of the alcohol, welcoming the burn as it goes down his throat.

“Why aren’t you at Uni like Liam?” _Like Ivana,_ he actually wants to say but stops himself. That would lead to another topic and Louis wouldn’t be capable of biting his tongue, alcohol working its magic like a truth-elixir, making him spill his guts.

“Mew,” Lara’s entire face is scrunched now, like the mere thought of going to Uni equals a ride to hell. Louis can sympathise, “not my cup of tea.”

“So you wanna deliver pizza for the rest of your life?” Louis inquires without judgement, since he’s doing bloody nothing with his life.

She shrugs, taking a sip of her whiskey. Pulling a face, she sets the mug on the table with a thud. “Scary to think about the rest of your life.”

Louis can’t do anything but agree. He’s been at that same point for so long he barely remembers how it feels to look forward to the future. Louis has no idea what he wants to do, has no interest in any job. Since the planning of his life was in his parent’s hands, he never wasted any thought about what it was that _he_ wanted. The thought alone makes him itch with restless nerves. He kind of wants to get up and make a run for it, his feet scratching over the floor, crossing his ankles, mentally tying him to the spot.

Bad topic — bad fucking topic.

“Fair enough,” He mutters, glancing at the amber coloured liquor.

Lara sighs. “I think most jobs are boring as hell, I don’t want to be stuck in an office for eight hours a day. It's just not _me_. You know? I need more.”

Louis tenses, he’d spent lots of hours in the office of his family, and yeah. It _is_ boring, loads of dull paperwork. Too quiet, nobody there to entertain him, only his mind and the clicking of the computer keyboard. His mum checking on him, a proud smile pasted on her face when she saw he’d gotten through the stack of requested papers.

Shaking the image out of his head, he gulps the whiskey like it's water. “‘S’fucking boring I tell ya.” He rasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Curiously, she peeks at him. “How d’you know?”

Right, nobody really knows who he is here, they don’t know his mother or what she does. Lara knows his sister, that is all. Louis doesn't think Lottie shares a lot about the life she left behind in London. He wouldn't either.

Or maybe Lara knows, remembering the way Lara looked at him when they’d first met. All too knowing, that is.

“Done a couple of internships,” He lies easily, “copying paper and whatnot.”

Lara groans, sympathetic, “The _worst_!”

He nods, avoiding her brown eyes, “Not something I wanna do for a living.” At least, that’s the truth.

“What do you want to do?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

Louis shrugs, “Will think ‘bout that, when I’m back in London.” Because, that is the reality right? He is going back to his city, _his home_. He has to eventually. Two weeks ago he would have felt relief at the thought about hopping on a train. He couldn’t wait to see his party people again, but now…he glances to the pictures, and instead of relief making him breathe more easily, his heart clenches painfully.

Lara, of course, notices where his attention is at. “What about Harry?”

Frowning, he turns to her. Lara’s face is a blank mask but in her eyes is a knowing glint.

“What about him?”

Shrugging, Lara picks at her nail, reminding him of Lottie. “Niall told me.”

Little Irish bastard.

Louis groans exaggeratedly. “There is nothing to tell.”

She raises an disbelieving brow at him, Louis breaks under her glower.

“Well,” he backtracks slowly, and she smirks. “We snogged but,” he shrugs, trailing off because there’s nothing more. There is nothing to tell, honestly.

“But?” Lara coaxes, “C’mon. Spill.”

Rolling his eyes, he sinks more into the cushion, letting his head roll onto the rest.

“Nothing to tell.” He repeats, looking at the ceiling in misery. “Never got a chance to really talk.”

“So there is more than a bit of snogging.” Lara states like the _know-it-all_ she thinks she is. “Otherwise you guys wouldn’t have to talk.”

Louis gives a helpless shrug, “Lara I don’t know, okay?”

Lara sighs, snuggling close so she can rest her head on his shoulder. “Better talkin’ about ya and Haz than Ivana and me.”

His body stiffens and he’s certain she can feel it. He slings an arm around her body, pulling her closer, hoping it will distract her.

“Ivy is just…weird lately.” She whispers.

He hums, patting her shoulder a bit awkwardly.

“I feel like shit,” Lara confesses. “My relationship is slipping away and I don’t know what to do. How to fix it.”

Louis is no expert in relationships, and all he knows is that Ivana snogged another girl. She cheated on his friend and he knows about it, he starts feeling like shit too.

“I miss her.”

His heart breaks for Lara, and Louis guesses there is only one thing that can change the mood in the room, that can bring a little light into the whole thing.

So he pets her head, like she’s a cat. “We need more alcohol, love.”

That’s what they end up doing — drinking. A lot. More than they should, especially since Lara has work in the evening and Louis should be sober for when Harry comes home.

The more alcohol flows in his blood, the looser he gets…and then he stops thinking altogether. He doesn’t think about Harry’s smile, about his dimples, about his laugh. How his jade coloured eyes light up before he cackles at one of Louis’ jokes.

Louis is not thinking about Harry’s lips, how his skin tastes, or how his pulse point smells.

His eyes avoid the bookshelf, and his fingers grip the half empty bottle of whiskey a bit more tightly.  

Louis is not thinking.

He is drinking.

Swallowing the liquor, he balances himself on the headboard of the sofa, leg kicking out to the side and bare toes digging into the fabric to keep him from falling face first into the coffee table.

A while back, they turned on some music channel on the telly. Some hip-hop song is playing - which isn’t his thing, but he is not sure what his thing is anymore. Bobbing his head to the beat, he grins at Lara, who dances on the rug, her arms reaching to the ceiling and her hips swaying from side to side.

She grins back when she catches his eyes, flipping him off.

Throwing his head back, he basically drowns his insides with more of the anti-thinking whiskey. He’s used to the harsh bitter taste by now, and it’s not burning anymore. His throat is numb and so is his heart.

Jumping off the sofa, he lands unsteadily, body swinging back and forth and mind spinning.

Giggling, he rounds the couch, stumbling twice before pulling Lara close by her hand, twirling her just like Harry did with him at the party.

“Fuck love!” Lara yells, slinging her arms around his neck. “Love alcohol!”

Louis lets out a hiccup laugh.

“Cheers to that.” He slurs, drinking more over Lara’s shoulder. She swats his side, pouting.

Handing the bottle to her, he lets up from Lara’s body, twirling by himself, head thrown back, eyes directed at the ceiling. Everything is spinning, his body vibrating with the alcohol and blaring music. His stomach turns.

He lands with a bang on the ground. He stays there, giving up. His legs are too weak to support him any longer.

Lara laughs at him, before plopping down as well.

That’s how Harry finds them, lying side by side on the floor while some shit music is blasting through the shitty speakers.

“What…the fuck.”

Louis' eyes open. Rolling his head to the side he sees Harry standing in the doorway, backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders, a flabbergasted expression shadowing his face.

Grinning, he waves at him, too tired to get up, “Helloooo!” Louis slurs, “Haz is home.”

“Yeah. I am.” He says slowly, taking a careful step into the room. “What _happened?_ ”

Louis frowns because he doesn’t understand. “Wha’?” Lifting himself up onto his elbows, he sees what Harry means, and, oh.

Right.

They had a pillow fight, he and Lara, so yeah, the pillows ended up all over the room, covering the floor, the dining table. Everywhere, really. The empty bottle lays sadly under the coffee table, but Louis has no memory of how it ended up there.

“Join us.” Louis makes grabby-hands at Harry.

“You’re drunk.” Harry states the very obvious, stepping over Lara, who’s passed out cold. He sits down next to Louis.

“I am.” Louis chirps matter-of-factly, too happy that Harry is here next to him to worry about the blank stare he gets in return.

Harry arches an eyebrow at him. “Why? It’s the middle of the day.”

“’S the best time to get shitfaced.” Louis says, hiccuping.

“Not sure ‘bout that…”

Louis is too drunk to notice the concern in Harry’s green eyes, he’s rather enjoying the fact that Harry is _home_. So he slides to him, close enough that he can snuggle Harry’s neck. Breathing in the warm skin and familiar cologne, he sighs happily. Harry smells like weed and cigarettes, too. It's heaven.

“I’ll get you some water.” He huffs, pulling his arm gently from Louis' hold.

Louis pouts at Harry, “Don't want water, want _you_.”  

Harry coughs, throwing Louis an amused look before he disappears into the kitchen.

Louis never gets the chance to see Harry return, because his eyelids droop closed. Sleep is pulling at him and he’s too exhausted to fight against it. He lays back down, rolling himself into foetal position.

_Harry is home, Harry is home,_ his mind chants, whilst the edges of his awareness blur and he’s dragged into the black pit of dreamless sleep.

 

*   *   *

 

Disoriented, Louis scrunches his face. The room he’s in is unfamiliar. The sheets are too soft and the mattress feels like a huge cloud. So, he can for sure say it’s not the living room where he knows he fell asleep and since his neck doesn’t hurt and his back doesn't sting with any sort of pain either, he can tell that he slept the entire night in here and not on the hard ground.

Louis can also dismiss the idea that this is his room in Lottie’s house, since he can’t recall walking back late at night or anything.

But, it’s a bedroom…and that’s a start.

Slowly sitting up in the comfortable bed, he glances around curiously, taking in the paintings that decorate the walls. They are beautiful, long strokes of blue and yellow mixed together. It looks angry and sad… Louis is no expert in art, he’s been to an art gallery once in his life, got drunk on the free champagne all whilst chatting up a waiter with a pretty bow. He made a joke about it, and the cute waiter with the dirty blond hair laughed, almost losing grip on the tray. Since the waiter with flirty eyes and a beaming smile plus the alcohol that was given around were more interesting than the art itself, he spent most of the time trying to get the guy to agree to let Louis stay at his place for the night. He hadn’t looked at the art in the same way he is now, and he regrets it deeply, wishing he had more knowledge about it.

The headache is distracting too, moving his skull with force, like it’s trying its best to split his head in two. The paintings might be the most beautiful he’s ever seen, but if Louis doesn’t close his eyes in the next couple of seconds, he thinks he will throw up on the cloud bed. He can’t have that, so he lets his lids drop shut and promises himself that he will get a better look at it all, when his body stops aching.

Laying back onto the sheets, he groans, scrubbing his face. He rolls around and presses his cheek further into the soft pillow. Another round of sleep will do him good.

Fuck alcohol. Fuck whiskey.

When Louis wakes up a second time, the room is the same — so it wasn’t something he made up in his hazy state. Louis doesn’t sit up right away, too scared to move an inch.

“Let me survive this.” He mutters heavenward, folding his hands in a silent prayer on his stomach. “I will never drink alcohol ever again.” He vows with a hoarse voice, his throat itching with every word he speaks.

An amused snort comes from the door. “Yeah, I want to see that happen.”

Louis doesn’t look Harry’s way, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Shh, Harry I’m praying my sins away.”

Another snort follows, then —

“Is it working?”

Louis pauses, the pounding still present in his temples. “No,” he sighs sadly, stretching his legs. “Guess, I’ve sinned too much already.” With that, he sits up slowly, like the first time, but now the room is not spinning. Thank fuck.

Blinking at Harry, he rubs his cheek. “Where am I?”

Harry stands in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed, but there is a tiny smile on his face. “Hell — obviously.” Harry says, shrugging. His smile grows, “How’s your head?”

“Oh, just wonderful,” Louis muses. “Fantastic, never felt better in my life.”

“Doubt that.” Harry steps towards the bed, sitting down on the edge.

“Yeah, guess I shouldn’t be drinking during the day anymore.”

Harry shakes his head, dimples out. “Are you getting old, Lou?”

Louis glowers at him, then sighs pitifully. “No, I’m as young as one can be. Gimme some pills and I’m good to go.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave?”

Louis chuckles despite his headache. “I didn’t mean it _literally_.”

“Oh,” Harry scrunches up his nose adorably, “Well then. I’ll get you some.”

“Thanks.”

The moment Harry is out of the room, Louis glances around one more time.

Yes, the art is still in place. Yes, it is still as beautiful as he remembers.

The picture that catches his eye and knocks the breath right out of lungs is a simple pencil drawing. It’s the back of a woman, she’s wearing a black swimsuit. Where the head would be, there are flowers growing out of her neck, her slim arms holding herself together it seems. Louis blinks, wishing he wasn’t so hungover.

He’s still hung up on the drawing when Harry enters the room again.

“Here, drink up.” Harry smiles, holding out a glass of water and two pain killers.

“Cheers.” Louis grumbles, taking the pills gratefully and swallowing the glass of water all in one go. Eyes flit from the picture to Harry, he nods in its direction. “It's a really great drawing.” He says, handing back the empty glass.

Harry follows his glance, raising an eyebrow as if he’s forgotten it’s there. Shrugging, he sits down on the bed, placing the glass at his feet. “Yeah, it’s old.” He mumbles.

“It’s beautiful.” Louis whispers in awe.

“It’s just a drawing.”

“Why is it hung up, if it’s _just_ a drawing?” Louis lifts his brows.

Harry doesn’t answer.

“Where am I?” Louis asks again, “Is this the guest room?”  

Biting his lip, Harry shakes his head slowly, “No,” he mouths.

Pulling his brows together, he looks around. The room is painted in a slight yellow, friendly and bright, the bed taking up most of the space where it’s put in the middle of the long wall. There is no closet but there is a drawer standing beneath the windowsill. Besides that and the art, the room is pretty much empty and tidy. No clothes on the floor or placed on a chair like in Louis' room, no desk or laptop anywhere.

“Is this your room?” It has to be, right?

Harry nods just as slowly as he had shaken his head. “It’s not much,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I mean, I used to spend most of my time in Manchester.”

“Manchester, right.” If Louis hears that city name one more time coming out of Harry’s mouth, he’s going to lose it. Why does he mention it all the time if he doesn’t want to talk about it? Louis won’t ever understand. He won’t ever find out either.

His shoulders fall back that very thought, because the memory of Louis exposing himself, opening up to Harry is still freshly carved in his brain. He didn’t expect Harry to open up about everything, but he’d hope he’d get at least a little part of Harry.

Maybe being inside his room is a start. Maybe that’s how Harry is choosing to showing himself.

Looking back at the art, Louis’ brain starts to work despite being hungover.

“Harry,” He whispers, glancing from a whirlwind drawing to the woman without a head and then he catches Harry’s green eyes, so soft in the dim light. “Did you…draw them?”

“What makes you think that?” Harry chuckles quietly, breaking the gaze. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

“They are yours.” Louis states, not a question this time. Louis can tell by Harry’s reddening cheeks that he’s the artist behind these masterpieces. By Louis’ knowledge, which isn’t much, they belong in a gallery not hidden away in a bedroom.

“They might be.”

Louis smiles. “They are beautiful.” He wants to add ‘ _tell me about them_ ’ but he knows Harry would never do that.

Harry meets his eyes carefully, a hint of disbelief in the green, and Louis’ heart clenches.

“Thank you.” Harry whispers.

_Tell me about them, I wanna know more about you,_ Louis thinks, biting his tongue to not let those words out of their cage. He knows Harry would bolt on him the moment they left his mouth, and would  build all those walls back up again.

Right now, Harry just looks bashful. His cheeks are still a lovely pink colour, eyes downcast and eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. A strand of his curls falls into his face. Harry is a masterpiece himself in this moment. Louis thinks Harry is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

“C’mere,” Louis says softly, craving to be close to Harry.

Harry looks up in surprise, then crawls towards Louis, not faltering in his actions as he he folds himself into Louis' open arms. Louis presses him close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Harry’s head is on his chest, his nose pressing into the fabric of Louis' shirt.

Without so much as thinking about boundaries, Louis kisses the top of Harry’s curly head, letting his lips linger there for a moment before placing his cheek where he’s kissed him.

Harry makes a small noise but doesn’t flinch away, no. He slings his arm tighter around Louis’ middle and tangles their legs together, until they are a knot of limbs.

Louis hums, cradling his fingers through Harry's hair.

The painkillers kick in and the headache fades away the longer they lay like this, Harry’s body heat radiates off him, giving extra warmth that isn’t needed because Louis is hot enough, the baby hair in his neck damping with sweat. Louis doesn’t care, he just holds Harry.

Although he knows Harry isn’t going to tell him what he did in Manchester, Louis asks, “How was Manchester?”

Harry stiffens in his arms and lets out a breathy sigh. “Good…bit exhausting,” he mumbles, lips moving against Louis’ collarbone.

“So you go there every Tuesday?” Louis pries, drawing mindless patterns on Harry's shoulder.

He can feel Harry shrug. “Yeah, Tuesday ’n everyday ‘m free.”

“Will you ever tell me what you get up to there?” Louis knows he’s pushing his luck and sure enough, Harry tries to pull away but Louis doesn’t let him. “You don’t have to tell me right away,” he whispers. “Relax,” he adds with another kiss on top of Harry's head.

Harry stays mute, but isn’t trying to get away anymore, which Louis counts as a win.

“‘M sorry ‘bout your parents.” Harry mumbles. Not expecting that, Louis tenses.

“Not your fault that they’re ignorant.” Louis says, trying for a jokey tone.

“Still.”

“Thank you.” Louis responds dumbly, not sure what else to say.

Another moment passes, both of them just hanging on their own thoughts, then—

“You smell,” Harry drawls.

Louis snorts, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Sweat is manly.”

Harry chuckles, “S’disgusting.”

“Alright, alright.” Louis laughs, “Show me the shower and I’ll be all clean again, smelling like roses and whatnot.”

Harry grins, drawing back. This time Louis lets him, catching Harry’s smiling eyes.

“I’ll get you a towel.” He informs him, leaning forward and pecking Louis’ cheek.

Dumbfounded, Louis stays put, watching Harry slide off the bed and out of the bedroom.

Touching his cheek, he still can feel the kiss there, the soft press of lips.

His whole body warms at that and he smiles to himself as he gets out of bed, too.

 

*   *   *

 

“Morning,” Louis greets Lara. The girl arches lazy eyebrows at him before turning back to the telly where some reality show is playing.

“Afternoon more like.” She says, absently.

“Thought ya fucked off.” Louis sits down next to her.

“Slept through my shift.” She waves her hand casually, like it’s no big deal.

Louis clicks his tongue, listening to the characters fight on screen. The living room is cleaned up, nothing left of the mess both of them had made.

“Where’s Harry?” He asks, his voice flat because after he had a shower and went back to Harry’s bedroom, there was no sign of the curly haired boy. Louis has got the feeling he’s gone again, left without telling Louis. Thinking back to their cuddle and the softness of it, it tugs on Louis’ heart. Maybe Harry cuddles all of his friends like this.

“‘M here,” says a voice from behind him, a voice Louis thought he wouldn’t get to hear anymore today.

Turning, he sees Harry closing the backdoor, slipping out of his boots, a hand placed on the window so he won’t fall over.

“Hi.” Louis rasps, throat dry.

“Hey.” Harry says back, smiling.

Lara huffs from his side, kicking her leg out.

They both raise their eyebrows at each other, smiles growing with amusement.

Harry saunters over to the sofa, throwing a pack of cigs on the table before plopping down right in the tiny space between Louis and the armrest. Not that Louis minds, he just lifts his leg, throwing it over Harry's thigh. His foot wiggles in the air, toes hitting the edge of the coffee table.

They share another private smile before turning their eyes to the telly. One of the people is now ugly weeping like the world is about to end. Louis rolls his eyes at the dramatics as the girl lets out another pathetic cry.

“I never get the hype about reality shows,” Louis mutters his confession, “’s not realistic at all, innit?”

“Is all about the entertainment,” Harry answers. The wise one. “Reality is most likely boring.”

“Depends,” Louis counters.

“On what?” Harry asks back.

“If you’re with the right people.”

“What if you’re alone?”

“Being alone is a choice.“ Louis’ brows pull together.

“Sometimes it’s not.”

Okay, this isn’t about the reality show anymore, is it? Louis pulls at his bottom lip, the casual way Harry said it making his heart clench as he thinks about Harry feeling like he’s alone and has no other choice but to be. He risks a careful glance at Harry, the boy frowning at the telly, like it actually did him wrong. Louis lets up from his lip, thinking about the empty house and the missing presence of Harry’s mum.

Sometimes Louis needs alone-time, just him and his thoughts. He’d prefer not being alone for too long though, because then his mind goes all wild on him, throwing shit at him and… _nope_ he’d rather spend time around people. Loud people, who don’t care much and have nothing to lose, just like himself. Who don’t snoop and just let him be. Like Nick. They are friends, but they never talked about anything really. All their conversations were about the next party and light banter. Nick knows who Louis is, knows who his parents are but he never tried to get to know Louis better, and in return, Louis kept his mouth shut about Nick’s wild behaviour at events. It worked out fine for them, knowing each other but not really knowing each other on some personal level.

“Well, nobody can force you to be alone,” Louis says then, because it’s true. He put up some fight with Lottie to get a chance to hangout with Harry. Even if Louis were to stay in the house, Tommy would be home, or Lottie herself.

“Can you lot shut up?” Lara grumbles, her sour mood from yesterday returning. This time Louis doesn’t offer alcohol, the thought making his empty stomach turn.

No thanks.

Louis shrugs, leaning closer to Harry.

The three of them watch another episode of that reality show. Louis is not the only one who doesn’t care about it, as when he sneaks glances at Harry, he notices he has his eyes closed. Louis bites down on his lips, trying and failing to keep the smile of his face.

“‘M’hungry,” Lara says a moment later, Harry opening his eyes at that, catching Louis’ stare.

“We can order pizza.” Louis replies with a nudge to her side.

She sends a dark glare at him, he just grins cheekily in return.

“Not funny,” She grunts, getting up and eyeing their tangled legs. Looking knowingly at Louis, she stretches. “Gonna go for a smoke.”

“‘Kay.”

“Coming with, Lou?”

He really, really wants to stay put, it’s warm and cozy next to Harry, but another look up at Lara, he feels like saying no is not an option - she’d make him go with her. Even though she’s as tall as Louis but has a more petite figure than him, slim arms, tiny waist, he has no doubt she’d drag his arse outside.

Louis won’t let that happen, so he sighs in defeat and pulls his leg from Harry, who pouts adorably in response.

Lara takes Harry’s pack without asking and wraps her hand around Louis’ bicep, as if he’d run the other way. Which means, the talk is more urgent than she’d let on.

“I’m coming, no need to escort me. Damn.” He frowns, bemused at her behaviour, freeing his arm and letting her go ahead.

Harry’s eyes burn holes in his back as Louis follows her.

 

*   *   *

 

The chill outside raises goosebumps on Louis' skin. He pretends the smoke in his lungs keeps him warm as he sucks on his cigarette.

“What’s up?” He asks straightforwardly, no time to waste when Harry is sitting just inside. Louis can feel his presence like a pull and he’d like to join him back on the couch. Also, inside it's warm, outside, not so much. Louis curses the English weather.

Lara exhales slowly, brown eyes boring into his before she speaks up, “Don't hurt Harry.”

“Why would I hurt him?” Louis blinks, thinking it’s more like the other way around. Harry fucking off to God knows where, always leaving Louis hanging on the line. Never knowing where they stand, if they are even on the same page. They still need to talk. Goddamnit.

Lara glares at him, brushing hair out of her eyes.

“Lara.” Louis hisses, tensing, holding onto the cigarette tighter.

“I know you had something against him at the beginning.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Yes, of course, he was rude to me.”

Shaking her head, she sucks on her fag. “You were too. He told me.”

“Yes,” Louis agrees, carefully, not understanding her attack. “I mean, I had my fair share of bad experience with dealers, they are anything _but_ nice.”

“You’re friends with Zayn.”

“Zayn’s a different story.”

“Tell me.” She lifts her chin in such a defensive manner that a wave of hotness rolls down Louis’ spine, despite the cold.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Bit personal, don’t you think?”

“Harry deserves someone who treats him right, not someone who judges him for what he _does_.”

“I stopped judging when I got to know him better.” Louis exclaims, sending a puff of smoke in Lara’s expressionless face.

She waves her hand to get rid of it. “What is his favourite colour?”

“What?” Louis blinks rapidly.

“What. Is. His…favourite colour?”

“Lara, I don’t know what’s gotten into you but Harry and I are none of your business.” Louis grits through his teeth. “Keep your nose elsewhere.”

“It is my business because Harry is my _best friend_.”

“Stay out of it, Harry is a big boy.”

Lara shakes her head, rolling her eyes like she’s disappointed.

“What about me, huh?” Louis presses around a lump in his throat. “He hurt me too, he’s still hurting me.” His cheeks flush red as the anger overcomes him, “Harry kisses me, pretends it never happened the next day, how d’you think I feel?”

“Oh c’mon, Louis!” Lara fires back. “Zayn told me about your _party_ life.”

This is not fair.

In favour of responding to that, he takes a very long drag of his cigarette. Concentrating on the buzzing in his veins instead of the pounding of his heart, he throws the burned down fag away from him.

“You said I shouldn’t judge Harry but you’re judging me right now and you know little about who the hell I am.”

“I know you’re a junkie, I know you’re angry and…you’re lonely.” Lara steps closer to him, “I really do like you Louis, but don’t use Harry for your sick personal fun whilst you’re stuck with your sister. He deserves better than being some part-time entertainment for you.”

A disbelieving huff escapes from Louis’ lips.

“So it’s true then? Harry is just some toy for you to pass time with?”

Louis bares his teeth at her, like a dog being cornered. “Fuck you Lara, try to fix your own damn relationship before you snoop in my life.” The moment the words are out, they hang heavily between them, he sees them reflecting in her brown glossed over eyes. They turn from angry to confused and then they are two furious beams.

“This is not about me.” She bursts, “My relationship is perfectly _fine_.”  

“Oh is that so?” Louis taunts, raising his voice. “That's what this is about, am I right? It’s not about me and Harry. This is about you and your little girlfriend.” His head spins as more words leave his lips. “You’re hurt, so you’re trying to hurt me. This is unfair, Lara. You’re being a bitch right now. Yesterday you were perfectly fine with me and Harry, innit?”

Lara sniffs. “Ivana loves me, she’s just busy. You’re bored and Harry is lonely. Don’t you dare compare my relationship to _that_.”

Louis freezes full-on when he hears the clearing of a throat coming from the door. He isn’t looking, can’t…because, Harry heard them. Harry heard what Louis said. Oh…God.

“I…uh ordered some Chinese?” Harry brittles.

Louis only turns when he hears the door closing again, watching Harry's hunched shoulders through the window.

_Shit_.

Lara sends him another killing glower as if this is his fault and stalks after him, cigarette falling to the ground.

Louis stays outside, swallowing the sadness down. It cuts his throat and rips his clenching, aching and breaking heart apart.

With shaky fingers, he takes a new cigarette out of the pack, lights it up and breathes in the nicotine. His eyes start to burn and he blinks, lying to himself that it’s the smoke and not the feeling of losing Harry before he even got a chance to make him his.

He stands there when the fuzzy rain starts, when the clouds turn to a dark grey. He stays outside, letting his hair soak with the drops, this cigarette doesn’t last long, just as wet as him.

He bites the skin of his thumb, trying to feel anything else but the heavy sadness. This is not fair, he thinks somberly, biting hard until he tastes metallic blood.

Louis is not keen to get back inside, he is scared to find an angry Harry, he doesn’t want another fight, his energy left his body when he couldn’t get the cigarette to burn. And he is scared to find the house empty, scared to find out that Harry just left.

Maybe Louis should stay away from Harry. Lara is right, the boy deserves someone better than him. Someone whole, healthy, and without a troubled past that makes its way back into his mind at nighttime.

His hollow cheeks and the craving in his throat are proof enough that he’s not good enough for the bright boy with the dimples. He never truly tried to be better.

His parents were right to send him away, to get rid of the weak link. He wouldn’t be able to lead a worldwide company anyway. Now that he’d spent more money on drugs than clothes or cars, he would just…throw the money out to get the next kick. It’s true and just as equally sad.

Wrapping his arms around his middle to keep himself together under the storm in his head and the cold that lets his body shiver, he hangs his head.

Harry deserves _better_.

Even though Louis knows nothing about the reason why Harry got involved in the drug business, he knows it was not by choice. Harry just got used to it, pretending it was his decision all along.

If you’re in, you’re in.

There are only two ways out, Louis knows. It’s death or jail and neither are options for someone as kind and lovely as Harry.

Glancing up at the sky, he wishes again for whatever is above to just take him. To end it all, swallow him whole.

 

***   *   ***


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday!! I hope you guys had a nice weekend. thank you millions and millions of times for all the comments, kudos and overall lovely support xxxx 
> 
> happy reading, enjoy! x

 

***    *    ***

 

The living room is as empty as Louis feels. There is a takeaway box on the coffee table, still closed and untouched. The telly is playing another episode of that stupid reality show but other than that, it’s quiet.

Louis drags his feet to the kitchen, only to confirm what he’d known already; nobody is here. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he groans, pained. He can’t see Lara’s car in the driveway when he peeks out of the kitchen window. With hunched shoulders, he makes his way back to the living room, standing there feeling a little helpless. He has no idea what to do next.

Leaving is his first thought but the last likeable option. He doesn’t want to leave. He really wants to talk to Harry, apologise for whatever Harry heard. He got it all wrong and before Harry makes the decision to turn his back on Louis and forget about him altogether, Louis wants to make sure Harry knows how he feels. Louis knows it's selfish, that he should just pick up the pieces and run, but his heart clenches every time Louis thinks about never seeing Harry again.

But Harry is not home and Louis doesn’t have his phone with him… _again_. So he can either wait or go to Lottie’s.

He lets out a great sigh, glancing one last time to the pictures on the bookshelf, taking in the smiles of Harry and his family. Then he turns, marching up the stairs to get his shoes out of Harry’s bedroom.

The door is closed, though Louis left it open after getting dressed. He kind of feels weird just going into Harry’s room without him, and now that he is sure Harry doesn’t want to see him anymore, he thinks he doesn’t have the right to go in there.

Pushing the door open, he’s met by darkness. The curtains are shut and Louis is glad for that. This way, he doesn’t have to see the art because he’s never going to find out the stories behind any of them. Without turning on the lights, he shuffles forward, outstretched hands feeling around. He stubs his toe on the bed frame, hissing at the pain that shoots up his foot and grinding his teeth together.

Blinking rapidly, Louis’ eyes get used to the darkness and he can make out the few pieces of furniture and the illusion of paintings on the wall.

Suddenly the lights turn on and Louis jumps out of his skin, heart pounding in his throat as his head whips around to the bed.

“Louis?” A deep voice rasps confusedly. “Thought you left? I tried reaching you on your phone but you weren’t picking up.”

Harry is hidden in a cocoon of blankets, head peeking out, fingers holding the blanket down a tad so he can lift his chin to look at Louis.

“Harry…” Louis swallows thickly, “I thought _you_ left…I…didn’t mean to just…walk in here, uh…I guess that’s a lie because I wanted to get my — my shoes but…yeah I didn’t know you were home.” He rambles, caught off guard, “And I forgot my phone at home.” He adds quietly, scrunching up his nose because it’s becoming a habit lately.

“S’alright,” Harry blinks, then chuckles for God knows what reason. “Why do you bother having a phone if you never use it?”

Louis shrugs. “I _do_ use it, sometimes. Sorry for…for waking you up.” He waves a hand in the direction of the bed, “I’ll just…uh leave…yeah.”

“Please stay.” Harry mumbles, freeing himself from his little hiding spot, sheets pooling around his hips as he sits up.

Louis thinks he must have heard him wrong but the pleading expression on Harry’s face tells him that yes, Harry said those words and they were directed at Louis.

He doesn’t understand, because he is certain that Harry is mad at him.

Not taking any chances, he quickly scrambles onto the bed, sitting on his bum a safe distance away from Harry, just in case he needs some space.

“I’m sorry.” They both say at the same time.

Crossing his legs, Louis frowns. “What are _you_ sorry for?”

“About Lara,” Harry avoids his gaze, lacing his fingers together. Nervously he bites down on his lip. When he releases it a moment later and lifts his head, there is a flash of red fury in the green of his eyes. “She shouldn’t have said anything, it was uncalled for.”

“She’s just looking out for you.” Louis says, not sure why he’s defending her but at the same time glad that Harry has friends who look after him. He deserves it; he deserves genuine friends.

Harry is already shaking his head mid-sentence. “No, this is none of her business, I love Lara but,” he shrugs. “I can look out for myself. I don’t need someone speaking up for me.” Harry looks so insulted by this, Louis can’t help but chuckle. Harry continues, “I told her as much. I feel kinda bad for kicking her out though.”

“You kicked her out?” Louis asks with a flat voice, hiding his confusion underneath it.

Nodding, Harry casts his eyes down, cracking his knuckles. Louis makes a grimace at the noise but doesn’t say anything.

“Why?”

“We fought.” Harry confesses quietly, lowering his gaze in shame. “I’ve never fought with her before. It's weird.”

“Harry.” Louis says carefully, “You don’t have to fight with your friends…because of me. She’s right, you know.” He’s the one now avoiding the gaze Harry sends him, “I used to party a lot, I’ve never had like…uh, a _relationship_.”

“I know.” Harry says quietly, “Me neither. I mean, look at me.“ He chuckles apprehensively. “I sell drugs for a living, I have no room to talk. And my longest relationship was the one with that dickhead from school, which is a long while ago, yeah?”

So they really are talking about this.

About feelings.

About them.

“We all have a past, but we also have a future.” Harry continues with a tender voice and hopeful eyes.

Future, huh? Louis thinks it’s doubtful he even has something like a future. The topic isn’t his favourite to discuss and he’s genuinely taken aback that Harry brought up the topic since they share the same kind of situation - there is nothing stable about either of their futures.

“I’ll go back to London, I guess? I don’t know, I have to eventually.” Louis says slowly, frowning as he scratches between his eyebrows. “Lara wasn’t lying about me passing time here, what else am I supposed to do?” It’s all true, he just never thought it’d be so easy, that time would fly so fast, that he’d have so much fun, that he’d make friends, true friends, along the way and find someone like Harry in the process. It’s all a bit surreal. Louis gets out of  his head when Harry swallows noisily and glances away. Then, Louis realises what he has just said and blinks rapidly, “Oh, no, no.” He says, catching on to what Harry is thinking, “She was wrong of course, you’re not some toy to play with, Harry.” He says quickly, “dunno what we are, H, but you’re definitely not a toy.” He leaves out that drugs are his toys to play with and averts his eyes to his lap.

Harry clears his throat. Louis raises his head. “When’re you going back to London?”

Louis shrugs, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I have no idea.” He sighs quietly. “I’ve got nothing waiting for me back home.”

“What about your friends?”

Louis’ eyebrows tilt up and so do the corners of his mouth. “What about them?”

“Don’t you miss them?” Harry pouts a little, unreasonably sad on Louis’ behalf.

“Oh…uh,” Louis splutters, barking out a surprised short laugh, “actually, eh, I never thought about it…” Louis admits, still chuckling then frowning at himself as realisation dawns on him. “I miss London and the freedom but…”

“But not your friends?” Harry’s brows pull together in bewilderment like it’s something he could never imagine. Maybe he can’t. “Why?”

“I don’t know, honestly.” Louis chuckles humourlessly, feeling a little bit like a dickhead for saying those words out loud. “I haven’t even talked to any of them. S’ not only their doing, actually I think they tried to reach out but I…just…” Never texted back or even read the message.

Harry nods but the frown doesn’t smooth out. “I’ll miss you when you leave.” He mumbles, running his fingers through the knots of his curls as if to ground himself.

Lately the thought of going back to London has become a bizarre feeling, something Louis hasn’t really brooded over since he and Harry built a closer…friendship and the bond between Louis and the others grew too. He was so caught up in the deals, in Harry’s laugh, in the way his heart started fluttering when Harry looked at him. The little fact that Louis isn’t actually living in Macclesfield but is rather here for a long-term visit had slipped his mind completely. The past weeks have been a rush, a blur glittering together and the frustration of having to stay in a small town turned into something more…peaceful. London seems like a distant memory or maybe another life, even.

He always felt like he could be himself with his party people but god, was he wrong. Now, looking at Harry, seeing how easy it is to speak about things he’s never said to another person, he understands what it truly feels like to be himself and be accepted. The same, of course, goes to the group at large. Niall, Liam, and Lara all took him in like he belonged to them all along (leaving out the fact that Lara and Louis had a row).

Perhaps Eleanor, Stan, and Nick have moved on already, have found a replacement for Louis, which wouldn’t be hard since a lot of people like to party and get shitfaced on the regular.

Somehow the possibility that they have and are living their lives like Louis never was a part of them in the first place doesn’t ache. He feels dull thinking about it.

Louis sighs, “I guess there’s really nothing waiting for me in London anyway so, you know I’m not really eager to move back…”

“What about your parents though?” Harry points out and, right. Louis still has parents. He had forgotten about that too since he hasn’t spoken to his mother or Mark all this time. That, too, leaves him oddly untouched.

“Well, they sent me here for a reason, eh?” Louis goes for a smile but just as Harry knits his brows to a line, he drops the act. He considers leaving it at that, but it’s so quiet in the bedroom and Harry is still listening, so he picks it up again after a moment, “See, even if I went back to London, it wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t know what to do with my life and I won’t give in to my parents. I no longer make them proud. The fact that I’m gay is just too much of a burden.” He rubs below his nose.he words sound weird coming from his mouth but they are true nonetheless. “They’ve frozen my bank account and,” He chuckles darkly, “I didn’t know that was possible since I’m an adult, yeah? Guess, if my…my — _dad_ is the director of the bank, he can pull some strings.” He gives a shrug, not knowing how to continue, wondering if he’s already said too much.

Harry hums, thinking something through and Louis holds his breath, waiting for whatever it is Harry is about to say.

“Then just don’t go back.” He settles on it like it’s the most obvious thing Louis could do. When Harry sees his perplexed expression, he shrugs, “you just said so yourself, innit? Nothing to go back to, nobody waiting for you whilst here…” He glances away briefly, coughing once and rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Your sister lives here, I know the lads love you and Lara adores you, she’s just…a little shit right now,” He swallows, “uh, I’m here too, so…there is that.”

Yeah, there is that.

Louis licks his lips, “does that mean I get to deal by your side a bit longer?” He asks carefully.

“Louis…” Harry groans, “we've been over this, I won't let you continue dealing when you're basically out of debt by now. What's the point?”

“Then there is something waiting for me in London after all.”

Harry raises his eyebrows warily. “What’s that?”

“Who, more like.” Louis pauses, “I could go back to London to deal by Zayn’s side––”

Harry shakes his head already mid-sentence. “Firstly, I won't let you do that.” His brows dip down, “secondly, Zayn will talk you out of it.”

“Firstly,” Louis mimics Harry, “I’m my own person.” As Harry opens his mouth to interrupt, probably stating that he didn't mean it like that, Louis carries on quickly, “Second, I bet Zayn wouldn't say no.” He ends with a shrug. He actually doesn't know if Zayn would be okay with it either, he's just saying it to get his way. He doesn't want to leave Harry's side on the streets.

“Don't be daft.” Harry scoffs. “He'd say no, too.”

Louis' lips twitch. “Wanna bet?”

“No.”

“But Harry, if you're so sure he won't say yes, you’ve got nothing to lose, eh?” Louis winks playfully. Harry just pouts and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Call him then.” He says, waving a hand around, “see if he takes you in, which–-” he gives Louis a grumpy look, “he won't.”

“Alright, let's see what Zaynie’s got to say to that.” Louis says, “Gimme your phone.”

Zayn picks up only at the third ring. “Harry, mate, what’s up?”

“Actually, it’s Louis.” He corrects. He hears a rustling on the other line and Louis waits until it’s silent again to continue. “You’re going back to London, I’ve heard?”

Zayn huffs impatiently, “You’re calling me for a chat?”

“Yes, a chat between best buddies, how’s the honeymoon?”

“Sod off, twat.”

“Am I interrupting sexual activities?” Louis asks with a cheeky smile, as Harry lifts a lazy brow.

“I wouldn’t have picked—” Zayn cuts himself off with a long sigh, “What do you want?”

Harry makes a hand gesture, signalling for Louis to put him on speaker, Louis does, placing the phone on his thigh.

“See, the thing is... I’d like to come with you back to London.”

There is a pause that stretches on for so long that Harry smirks at him, mouthing _‘told you’_. Louis kicks his shin. This isn’t over yet.

“Hmm, I thought…what about Harry?” Louis hates Zayn, did he mention that already? Because he does. He also hates the fact that it makes him blush beet red and that Harry sends him a look that Louis can't pinpoint the meaning behind. “I heard from—”

“No,” Louis says quickly before Zayn can embarrass him even further, “this…is about dealing, not…not…” He stammers, avoiding Harry’s eyes at all costs and picking at his lower lip. “I mean…it’s about H too? See, thing is, I wanna deal…like properly?” Louis wrinkles his nose, “And I thought if Harry doesn’t want me by his side,” Harry makes a small noise of protest in the back of his throat, Louis ignores him. “I figured I could come back to London and be your little helper bee.”

“This…is the worst idea, like, ever.” Zayn says after a moment with a flat voice. “I’m…” He sighs, probably suppressing the urge to bang his head against a wall or summat. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Honestly I’m not even surprised that now you’ve had a taste, you want the whole cake.” Zayn chuckles.

Harry cocks his head to the side, smirk too smug, dimple too deep and eyes way too mischievous with victory. This isn’t the end though, Louis didn’t hear a no, so.

“Does that mean you’re gonna take me with you back to London?” Louis asks.

“What about Harry?” Zayn voices, “What about your sister?”

Oh, well.

“Harry doesn’t want me to deal with him anymore, he’s kicking me out of our little gang of two.” Louis says, adding as much drama into his voice as he can manage, even pouts, hoping it gets through the connection of the phone.

“Louis it’s your life, if you go back to London I’d play your saviour anyway.”

“Is that a yes, angel?” Louis grins.

“Wait, hold the fuck up.” Harry jumps into the conversation. “Zayn!” He exclaims in betrayal, crossing his arms like a moody child, “How can you say yes to that?”

Zayn chuckles, “Oh, hey there Harry.”

“Fuck you.” Harry grumbles, “You’re supposed to be on my side in this.”

“I’m not supposed to do anything.” Zayn states, ever so zen, “I know Louis, if he sets his mind to something, he’ll get it somehow. So, why not?”

Harry splutters, at a loss for words apparently. Louis uses the chance to push a tad more. “I’ll pack my things then?”

“No, you won’t.” Harry frowns with pouty lips. Louis raises his brows at him. Harry rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I will, Harry.” Louis says with a firm voice.

“Are you guys done bickering or…” Zayn’s bored drawls interrupts whatever Harry wanted to say, Harry snaps his mouth shut and sets his jaw. “I take that as a yes.” Zayn carries on as neither says anything. “I mean we’ll see each other—”

“No.” Harry says again, fixing Louis with a fiery stare, “I won’t let you go to London to deal, that’s bullshit. I can’t…” He bites his tongue, shoulders hunching. “I…if…” He stutters then takes a grand inhale, ruffling his hair in distress, “If I really can’t stop you from doing this…then, I’d rather have you by my side than…in London.” He spits the name out like it’s filthy.

Louis really, really, tries to repress the smugness that washes over him but a small smile steals itself on his lips and he can’t control the raising of his brows as he looks at Harry.

“We can do this, we’re already doing it anyway.” Harry shrugs, still not pleased with the idea but more settled with the decision now. “I mean…no one will know anyway for the time being, innit Zayn?”

Both glance at the phone when no answer follows. Zayn, however, hung up on them but left a message that lights up the display, simply stating ‘ _get a grip you fuckers, you r stupid Lou, love you tho_ ’ and both chuckle a tad breathlessly at the words.

They sober up as silence takes over. Harry looks out of the window and Louis sighs. Sure he’s got his way and there is a little part of him that beams with triumph. The rest, the bigger part, however, is worried.

He twists his lip, rolling his eyes heavenward for a second and then he clears his throat. “Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you, like, mad at me?” Louis sinks his front teeth in the flesh.

“Already regretting your decision?”

“Depends…”

“On?” Harry prompts, finally turning his head. Louis releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“You?” It comes out as a question when it was meant more as a solid fact.

“I mean…” Harry sighs, sitting back against the headboard and crossing his arms behind his head, biceps bulging. “Like you said before, you're already doing it and if you wanna continue then I’d rather be with you, so…” he trails off, breaking eye contact.

“We’re good then?” Louis questions further since he still feels like he has a tight fist clenching his heart.

Harry's features turn softer. “‘Course we are.” He says with a smile and then opens his arms, “c’mere, you're too far away.”

Louis returns the smile and doesn't think twice before crawling into Harry's inviting arms. Harry wraps him in a hug, pulling him to his chest and bedding his cheeks on top of Louis’ crown of hair.

“I'll protect you.” Harry murmurs, “nothing bad can ever happen.” Louis is uncertain if Harry's talking to himself or if the words are meant for Louis’ ears, but they smooth out the worry that has wormed its way into Louis' brain and lets him shut his lids.

“Hm, what is with Lottie?” Louis mumbles, half-asleep and warm, “What do I tell her?”

Harry exhales loudly through his nostrils before answering, “If you want, you can just stay here.”

And before Louis can decline the offer or question it, Harry’s soft snores fill the bedroom and Louis decides to leave it at that. So far nothing has happened, Lottie hasn’t found out and isn’t nagging Louis in any way to come back home, so maybe Louis can hide out in Harry’s house, spend even more time around him. It doesn’t sound too bad and he trusts Harry with all his being. Breathing in the faint cologne, he drifts off not a moment later.   


 

*    *   *

 

After two rounds of video games (Louis won both times, and despite what Harry says, Louis did _not_ cheat), they warm up the untouched takeaway and sit outside on the terrace. The weather has lightened up and it feels like summer again, with the sun peeking through the crowns of the trees and the birds tweeting their songs, hidden away in the green swinging leaves.

They ran out of cigarettes a while ago, but don’t mind sharing the last one, the empty packet sadly placed next to the full ashtray. Louis takes the fag from Harry, sucking on it once before blowing out the smoke through his nose.

“Will there be any changes?” Louis asks, handing Harry back the glowing stick, careful not to burn Harry or himself.

“Some,” Harry shrugs, smiling. “Not a lot…I did some deals without you, the harder stuff you know?”

“Harder stuff…like heroin?” Louis swallows, this shit is nasty.

“Yeah, the crackheads are the most dangerous to deal with.” Harry wrinkles his nose at a memory, eyes zoned out for a second before he shakes himself out of it. “They’ll do anything to get the shit.”

“They…uh they jump you?”

Harry nods. “Yes, they’d kill for it.”

“And what? You go there… _alone_?” Louis frowns, concern sparkling in his veins for the boy next to him.

“No, I meet up with others.” Harry glances at him before taking the last drag and stubbing out the cig in the ashtray, smoke escaping the corner of his mouth. “There are other gangs in Manchester, too. We’d better not run into them though.”

“What d’you mean?”

Harry laughs as if it’s nothing. “They are very keen to keep their part of the city. They know who belongs to them and who doesn’t and they’ve made it clear in the past that they don’t like to share.”

“Share?”

“Their…junkies.”

“Oh God,” Louis groans, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “Why are you doing this, Harry? Money can’t be more important than your life.”

Louis knows he’s overstepping and won’t get an answer, and he really doesn’t want to fight with Harry tonight. So he quickly speaks up before the dark look on Harry’s face returns, “Whatever, let's get ready to feed the stoners.” He stands, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Gathering their shit, he slips inside without waiting for Harry.

He does the washing up, because Harry is already letting him hide out in his house, and it’s  the least he can do.

“Thanks.” Harry says from behind, patting Louis’ leg, so he makes room for him to empty the ashtray into the rubbish bin beneath the sink. Straightening up, he dries the plates that Louis has just finished washing.

“No worries.” Louis smiles at Harry, handing him the last one. Pursing his lips, he remembers something that’s been bugging him for ages. “Harry?”

When the boy looks down at him, because yes, Harry is that much taller than Louis, something Louis tries not to think about it too much, he licks his lips, not sure if it’s a safe question. “The first time we met…in the cinema?” As Harry nods to go on, he does, “Why did you do the drug deal with Lara there if this is your house…we went here afterwards.”

To Louis’ surprise, Harry laughs. It’s a full on belly laugh, and Louis is not sure what’s so funny but he smiles in amusement as Harry calms down.

“That’s kind of our thing,” he explains breathlessly, inhaling as he grins brightly. “Mostly we’d watch shitty movies and then I’d be off to Manchester for the weekend. But seriously, zombies against aliens?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. Hands on hips, he goes on, “I know I could just leave the drugs on the table or whatever, I know they all pay their share…”

“You were so rude back then.” Louis grins.

Harry shrugs, “Yeah, I don’t like new people.”

“That’s not true,” Harry is a people person, a beam of light at parties, always making small talk with literally everyone. He’s seen it and he knows Harry loves it. He loves people.

“It’s true.” Harry says, sobering up. “I didn’t know you and I don’t like it when people crash my deals. Never know if they’re gonna spill, it’s dangerous.”

Louis clicks his tongue, he understands that. Seriously, he’d be careful too.

“We should go see a movie sometime.” Harry says casually, not quite making eye contact with Louis as he bites down on his lip.

“Just us?” Louis asks, hopping up on the counter, wiggling his bum to get comfortable.

Harry nods slowly, green eyes shy.

There are two different Harry's, Louis has discovered. There is Harry The Drug Dealer, confident, rude, all business like, there is no playing around. You pay or you get hurt, those are the rules. Not made by Harry, of course, but by the boss. Whoever that might be, Louis doesn’t want to find out. But yeah, point is, don’t get Dealer Harry on your bad side.

Then, there is Harry, just Harry basically. He is more goofy, singing off key along to the songs in the car, laughing loud and unabashed, being so kind and passionate about things Louis had never even thought about before.

Louis has seen the walls build up, the change in the green of Harry’s eyes, turning from a bright warm to a darker shade, cool, collected. He even walks differently, is the thing. While Harry is a bit clumsy, tripping over nothing with his inward turned toes and giraffe legs, Drug Dealer Harry strides, more of a power walk, head held high, biceps bulging. There is no tripping or stumbling, there is only confidence in each steps he takes.

Dealer Harry is all lopsided grins and lazy raised eyebrows like he’s bored with every word the other person says, just waiting for them to finish so he can run off to the next deal. Harry, though, listens with interest, never interrupting but coaxing to know more, to help out with advice and soft spoken words. Harry tells bad jokes, dancing around with loose limbs, trying to make everyone around him laugh and have a good time.

It got easier to be around Harry when Louis realised that. While Dealer Harry tried to rile Louis up, he knew it wasn’t Harry talking, just that other version of him, so Louis stopped firing back, kept his mouth shut even though the sassy remarks were on his tongue. But Louis wouldn’t be Louis if he didn’t joke, so he kept it light, tried to bring a smile or laugh out of Harry rather than a snarl or a rude comeback.

When Dealer Harry returned, Louis told himself that this isn’t Harry, it’s a mask he can’t live without in that life of his. If he was just Harry, he would get mugged and beaten up like a weak dog more often than not. You’ve got to have a thick skin to be in that business, as if you show weakness, you’ll die eventually, be it by your boss or an addict or a police officer.

Even though Harry won’t answer Louis’ questions, won’t let him in completely, Louis is just glad to get to know a part of the real Harry.

The real Harry is standing in front of him now, hopeful eyes locked with his. Louis lets his bare heels bang against the counter, humming in thought. Of course he wants to go to the movies with Harry, it’s no question. He wants to do a lot of things with Harry and a lot of things to Harry.

“Sure thing,” Louis says, grinning. “But please choose a _good_ movie.”

Harry smirks, coming so close that he stands between Louis’ parted legs. “Of course.”

“And we must share popcorn. Without that crap movies are boring anyway.”

“Anything you want, Lou.” Harry laughs lightly.

“I want the best seats, in the back.” Louis continues, of course he’s just joking, who cares about popcorn or the seats when Harry will be right next to him and it all sounds so much like a date.

Harry plays along though, nodding seriously. “The very best.”

“We can sneak in vodka.”

“Sure, we can do that.”

“You also can give me a foot rub.” Louis waggles his brows, “Or a back massage.”

Harry laughs, running his fingers through his hair, “ _Whatever,_ Louis.”

“We also could—” Louis voice is cut off by Harry’s large palm covering his mouth, green eyes twinkling in amusement.

“We can do it all, Lou. Shut up, please.” He says without heat, a grin splitting his face and bringing out the dimple.

“Being rude and polite all at once,” Louis tuts, clicking his tongue when Harry lets up from his mouth.

“You know me.”

 _No, I don’t really_ . Louis wants to reply, because really, he knows stuff about Harry, little bits and bobs but not what he _craves_ to know. Which is basically everything.

“I do,” he says anyway because at least Harry has let him under the top layer at last. Now Louis just has to find the key to the closed door he’s standing in front of.

Louis is determined enough to wait and let Harry hand him over the key by his free will, without getting too frustrated. He can be patient if he wants to.

That’s why Louis is not too disappointed when Harry steps back and says, “Better get going.”

They have time, Louis reminds himself, watching Harry bolt out of the kitchen.

Hot and cold, almost there but never quite close enough for Louis to reach and hold onto. Sighing to himself, he hops off the counter, following Harry.

Always following.

 

*   *   *

 

Selling drugs during the day is shit. There are a lot of people around, people with curious eyes and…because they live in a town where everyone knows everyone, Harry’s been called more than once from across the street. He makes small talk with elderly women, girls he went to college with, and some blokes picking up their kids from school or nursery.

Whilst Harry keeps the conversations as short as he can manage without being rude, Louis stands by his side. His hands are buried in the pockets of his denim jacket, fingers clutching the little packet of cocaine tightly.

Shaking his fringe out of his eyes, he gets impatient. All of these people have no idea what's hiding in their pockets or in the massive backpack that’s slung over Harry’s shoulder.

It’s a thrill of course, knowing something they don’t. Feels like they’re getting away with some major prank, right in front of everyone’s eyes.

Still, Louis’ eye twitches in annoyance when Harry keeps talking about Travis, but whilst his voice is the usual slow drawl, Louis can tell by the stiffness of his spine that he wants to leave too.

They should’ve taken the car, Louis muses and when the lady with the basket starts talking about the time she took in a baby kitten, he clears his throat. As cute the story might be, they’ve gotta go.

“Harry, mate.” Louis speaks up for the first time in what feels like hours, “The others are waiting, we promised we’d be punctual this time ‘round.” He lies, sending Harry a subtle glare.

“Oh!” The woman exclaims, chuckling in her palm, “Don't let me keep you boys any longer.” Her blue eyes take Louis in and it feels just like being in the spotlight.

Good thing he has never suffered from stage-fright.

He smiles at her apologetically and she smiles back kindly.

“Nice to see you again, Harry my dear. You boys should stop by for tea, sometime.” She says.

“Thank you.” Harry smiles. “We’d like that.”  

 _Over my dead body,_ Louis thinks but keeps his expression friendly.

“Oh and Harry,” She says, when they turn.

“Yes?”

“If you need anything, my dear, let me know. I know it must be hard with your m—”

“That’s very kind of you, but I should be all right.” Harry cuts her off.

Louis can tell it’s a greater effort to keep his voice light like before; there is a tense undertone there now which wasn’t there before. Louis frowns.

The woman just smiles though, and waves her goodbye.

Louis doesn’t ask what that was about as they amble down the street, keeping their walk to a slow pace so they don’t seem suspicious.

Louis isn’t stupid, he can put two and two together. He knows what this is about.

It must be about Harry’s mum, the smiling woman in the pictures. He’s mentioned her a couple of times, but it always sounded like she could walk into the house any minute. Like she was just off at work and would be back for supper.

Louis knows this isn’t the case though and he won’t ask about her until Harry is ready to talk about it.

But every time the pictures on the bookshelf catch his attention, he feels uneasy. His mind races with dark thoughts and millions of questions.

Where is his mum? What is her name? Why isn’t she home? Why is Harry living alone? Did she just leave her son behind?

_Is she dead?_

Louis sure hopes that she’s still alive and just on a long business trip or something, just like his mum is from time to time.

The moment Louis’ thoughts wander to her, to his own mum, he shuts his brain up. Directing his attention to Harry, he smiles when he catches Harry staring.  

They don’t speak a word whilst wandering the streets until they reach the meeting point.

It’s an alley again, a closed pub at the corner and a shoe store at the other end. There aren’t many people around, a car occasionally passes them but that’s it.

They are alone. That will change in a moment, hopefully.

Harry leans against the wall, next to the backdoor of the pub, lighting a cigarette and shaking his hair out before running a hand through his curls, tugging them back in place.

His eyes darken when his lips part to let out the grey smoke. “Always fucking late, this one,” He grumbles, propping his foot on the wall.

Louis hums in response, not sure what to say, because he knows the pack of cocaine is for this guy. Harry explained that he is the only one who buys coke off him aside from Lara and his friends.

The backpack placed by Harry’s boot is filled with weed, still waiting to be sold.

“Fucking hate this guy.” Harry grumbles. Louis snorts, stepping towards him.

“You can’t hate anyone H, you’re too nice for that.” Which, again…is _not_ true. Maybe it counts for Harry but not for Dealer Harry whose eyes flash in annoyance as  time ticks on and the guy still hasn’t made an appearance. Louis takes the fag from Harry, taking a long drag himself, maintaining eye-contact whilst doing so. Harry narrows his eyes at him and licks his lips, tongue darting out slowly. The corner of Louis’ mouth stretches to a smirk. He gives him back the cig, breathing out of his nostrils and bringing some distance between them, though his eyes still linger on Harry’s face and watch on, as Harry draws a breath of smoke down his lungs.

They hand the stick back and forth until it’s burned down to the butt and the guy is still nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe we should just go?” Louis lifts his brows at him questioningly. Harry’s lips pop open to answer but at that moment, the backdoor to the pub swings open and a young looking lad steps into the alley.  

“Sorry, sorry!” The guy holds up his palm, “I had to do the dishes and—” He cuts himself off with an annoyed huff, ruffling his bronze hair.

Harry rolls his eyes, his tummy ballooning with the motion, then he straightens his back and steps towards the lad who cannot be older than sixteen.

Sixteen. A minor. Underage.

Louis frowns.

“Yeah, well.” Harry drawls, “Nice of you to show up for the deal _you_ messaged me about.”  

“Gimme the coke.”

“Gimme the money you owe me from last time.” Harry shoots back, voice dangerously low.

The boy clicks his tongue, eyes flickering to Louis for a split-second then they roll back to Harry with a narrow of his eyebrows. His naturally pale cheeks ashen. “I only have a hundred…I…don’t, uh…y’know?” He rambles.

“So, you wanna tell me you don’t have the money…again?” Harry sets his jaw, a muscle twitching.

“I can pay you back?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

Louis shifts his weight.

Harry looks sideways, studying the wall, then angles his head heavenward before he faces the young buyer again. He rubs below his nose, casually glancing down and stepping closer to the boy, coming across as bored as he claps him on the shoulder.  

The brunette stumbles back, amber eyes widening in alarm.

Harry grins sharply and Louis gulps. Harry wouldn’t, right? This is just a… _kid_. Harry couldn’t hurt a meagre teenager.

“Luke…” Harry sighs, “Luke, Luke, Luky-Luke. _Listen_.” Harry dips his head, forcing eye-contact with the boy, who's apparently called Luke. “Mate, you see, I got a tiny, tiny problem with that.” Harry pinches the air along his words, smile turning faux-cheerful, dimple deepening and everything. It’s a tad unsettling to watch, if Louis is being honest. He wouldn’t want to be in Luke’s shoes right now. Harry can be scary at times.

Luke gulps, “A problem?”  

Harry nods, “A problem, see, you’re the son of that very pub owner, yes?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, it wasn’t a real question to begin with anyway. “You wouldn’t give out drinks without getting any money in return, hmm?”

“Well, we…we _do_ have open-tabs, though.” Luke blinks.

“That’s right, very true.” Harry purrs, a hand sliding over Luke’s shoulder to the arch of his neck. “But we’re not talking about cheap beer here, are we?” Luke shakes his head. “See, there’s a good lad. Gimme the money or no coke. Easy as that.”

“I…I—” Luke swallows so loudly that Louis can pick it up from a distance. “Don’t…I…need the coke, I got a big exam coming…I need to concentrate and study and…please, I’ll give you the money next week, yeah? Please? I just need to concentrate.” His voice cracks at the end, fearful eyes darting all over Harry’s face.

Harry sighs through his nose and straightens his spine, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck from side to side, like it aches with soreness.

“Alright.” Harry nods, taking a step back. “Cool.”

“C-cool?”

“Yeah, man.”

Louis has…no idea what’s going on but by Harry’s bulging biceps that stretch the material of his jacket, he isn’t sure if ‘alright’ and ‘cool’ are words that are meant for Luke.

“You still owe me two hundred from last time.” Harry declares, “And if I recall correctly, you said, you’ll get it for this time around.” There is a pause, then Harry smacks his lips together like he’s at a wine tasting. “You’re a good student aren’t you, Luke? Proper smart, yeah?”

Luke nods hesitantly.

“Heard you want to study maths after graduating college, yes?”

“How…how do you…” Luke splutters.

Harry gives a full body shrug. “I know a lot of things about you, Luke. I also know where your lovely, lovely sister works. But.” He grins, “You have two sisters, yeah?”

Luke’s eyes widen.

Louis’ blood runs cold.

“A younger one, yeah? Fluffy, red hair, hmm? Doesn’t like sweets, but dolls, isn’t that right?”

“Don’t…you— wouldn’t…right? Right? I…can get you the money… I just—”

Harry huffs, dropping the cheery act and jabs his index against Luke’s chest with a force that sends the boy stumbling backwards. Louis steps towards them automatically. He doesn’t know what to do, if he should put some distance between them, handle the situation, or stay out of it. If Harry can’t even kill a spider, he surely wouldn’t hurt a child or teenager.

“I wouldn’t.” Harry whispers, “I wouldn’t hurt a child.”

Luke’s body heaves in relief.

“James would though.” Harry states, voice flat and chilling cold. “You know James, don’t you?”

A tense moment of silence passes, where Luke’s eyes widen to the size of plates. Harry remains blinking, unimpressed, like he couldn’t be more bored out of his mind with the situation and Louis takes another step in the direction of the two, the urge to bring them apart now much more extreme. His hands shake at his sides and he balls them into fists as sweat breaks out of his pores as if he’s run a mile.

He shifts his weight, swallowing.

A car honks and Louis startles, his movement bringing Luke’s attention onto him. They both stare at each other over Harry’s shoulder.

There is a flicker of something in the amber eyes of Luke, a shift. The young face hardens as he sets his jaw, eyes lingering on Louis for another moment, which causes Louis’ neck to start tingling with an uneasy feeling, then he rips his gaze up to Harry’s face.

Louis steps closer.

“I need the coke. I’ll give you the money next week.” Luke says, voice so much stronger than before. Louis doesn’t like it.

“I need the money, I’ll give you the coke next week.” Harry stretches lazily, hand wrapped around his left wrist, arms above his head. Then he lets them fall down with a satisfied groan. “Alright?”

“No, no. That’s not alright.” Luke hisses, poking Harry’s chest. Harry tilts his head to the side at the contact, like a curious puppy. Luke, then, to Louis’ horror and Harry’s pure amusement, tries to sneak his hand into Harry’s jacket-pocket. His hand is easily dodged and a puff of air leaves Harry's lips. Luke goes for it again, trying to snatch something out of Harry’s pocket, but Harry steps backwards, dancing out of the way of Luke’s quick fingers. “Gimme the coke!” Luke grunts, huffs annoyed as Harry catches his wrist and holds it over his head.

“Louis.” Harry chuckles his name. “Let’s go.”

He clears his throat, trying to find his voice that ended up somewhere on the bottom of his body and wills his heart to beat in a much calmer rhythm. “Okay.” He rasps, looking from Luke’s grim face to the back of Harry’s head, then his eyes snap like a rubber-band to the boy. “Let’s go.”

Another moment passes where nobody moves an inch, Luke still fixed on Louis, Harry fixed on Luke. Louis’ gaze cuts from one to the other so quickly his vision blurs at the edges.

Harry backtracks, slowly.

Suddenly, Luke sidesteps Harry, launching himself at Louis in such a quick movement, both of them have no time to react to stop Luke from grabbing Louis by the shoulders, both collapsing on the hard ground with such intensity, it knocks the breath straight out of Louis’ lungs in a big ‘ _oooppfff_ ’. The shock wears off as adrenaline kicks in and his instincts to fight and survive take over.

He fists the collar of Luke’s jacket, thighs tensing to turn them around so he’s the one on top of the younger boy, who's too caught off guard to do more than gasp as Louis presses the outer side of his underarm against his throat, holding him in place with a heaving chest. Big brown eyes stare at him as hands grip at his arm, tearing at it to get him off.

Louis sits, shifts on his calves, letting up from Luke’s throat and wiping sweat off his damp forehead. Wordlessly he gets up, holding out a hand to help Luke stand too. “Y’alright?” He asks, voice a low murmur. “All good?” He searches for any bruises, but thankfully can’t find any on the pale, creamy skin.

The boost of energy lets his knees wobble as the boy takes his hand and Louis heaves him to his feet. There are two hands on his shoulders from behind and Louis restrains a shiver at Harry’s breath which fans on the back of his hair.

“You okay?” Harry whispers in his ear and Louis gives a tiny nod, eyes still on Luke who brushes dirt off of his clothes.

All three of them see it at the same fucking time.  Harry’s hands tense on Louis’ shoulders, his exhalation becomes shaky. Luke’s eyes snap from the fallen-out pack of cocaine to them, then back to the coke.

Louis and Luke lunge for it at the same time.

Luke shoves at his side, Louis tries to kick the pack, Harry tries to wrap his arms around Luke’s waist to catch him.

The pack flies and lands against the wall, Harry misses Luke’s body which zips to the side like a bunny that escaped a fox and sprints to the cocaine. Louis chases after him, however he trips over his own feet, sending him tumbling to the ground, but he’s close enough to Luke that he gets a good loop around Luke's shins, tripping him up. Luke falls forward, landing on his chest with a hiss.

Louis clambers to his knees, gripping the edge of Luke’s jacket, who’s sliding his shoes over the ground trying to get up and make a run for it. He senses he can’t get away, so he rolls around on his back, breathing heavily as Louis straddles him once more.

They glare at each other, teeth bared as both wind their hands around each others throats.

Luke’s leg kicks out and he slaps Louis’ cheek, cradling his chin in such a hard grip that a high-pitched whimper escapes from Louis’ lips.  Luke is oddly strong for his meagre figure and overpowers Louis shortly after with another hard tug on Louis’ hair.

Louis coughs, head turning red under the pressure of the hand tearing at his hair and the other cutting off his airway.

Suddenly, Luke is on top of him, and not only that, but there is a cold blade of a knife digging in the skin of his throat. Louis’ eyes bulge in panic as the blade shakes on his skin, rubbing up and down. Louis gasps at him.

Louis has survived big, rough guys with knives and raging thirst for blood. Louis has survived a year being reckless and messing with guys who had scars across their faces and prison-tattoos inked all over their bodies. Louis has survived strangulation; Louis has survived hits to his jaw, nose and temple; Louis has survived a chase through London’s darkest Alleys.

Louis won’t lose his life to a little boy who likes to steal some cocaine. He refuses to die like this.

The thought gives him new power, a bolt of strength runs through his body and he wills his limbs to relax.

He stops fighting, just blinks up in the red face of his dance partner and breaths evenly in and out. He even musters up a smile. “Awh,” he coos, “you gonna kill me?” He asks, voice hoarse.

Confusion about the transformation flashes in Luke’s eyes. He digs the length of the knife further into Louis’ throat, but his hand trembles and Louis _knows_ this kid won’t do a thing, it’s all a goddamn bluff. It tames the fear that hums in the back of his mind and lets his smile grow to a toothy grin.

“Do it.” He tilts his head to the side, causing the blade to cut into his skin. It stings, but he’s experienced worse. Luke lessens the pressure just a tad, but it’s noticeable and confirms Louis’ speculation about the bluff. Licking his dry lips, he holds eye contact with the boy who still stares at him like he’s having a mental discussion with himself. With one graceful swoop he sits upright, taking Luke with him. He presses his soles flat against the ground and pushes himself more into Luke, the knife falling out of his hand, landing with a clatter next to them. Louis rolls them around and gets in possession of the knife, holding the sharp point not to the boy’s throat but his eye. “Can’t master an exam without seeing the question, innit?” He asks.

Luke’s answer is a gulp, amber eyes fearful and wide open. Louis can see his own reflection in them.

He snaps the knife forward, Luke flinches his head to the side, pressing his lids shut with a pathetic little whimper. His whole body shakes under Louis.

“Ooh,” Louis breathes, “Not so tough anymore, eh?”

“P-please.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Please?”

“Don’t…don’t…”

Louis’ heart tugs as Luke’s bottom lips starts wobbling and tears slip out from under his closed lids. Louis blinks at the boy, then releases a sigh and stands up, taking the coke and shoving it in the pocket of his jacket. Luke remains unmoving on the ground, though as he peeks at Louis through his light lashes, he rubs a shaky hand over them.

Louis shakes out his shoulders, rolls them back and forth to get rid of the tension and stiffness from laying and wrestling on the ground. He scrubs over his throat, there is some blood on his fingers and he wipes it off on his trousers with a wrinkled nose.

A hand touches his waist and he flinches until the familiar cologne unfurls in his nostrils and he relaxes again, almost completely forgetting that Harry is still with them.

Harry squeezes his side then crouches down to Luke’s level, whispering something in the boy's ear that Louis can’t pick up over the rush of adrenaline and blood in his eardrums.

Only at that moment, the realisation of what just happened crashes down on him like a bucket of ice cold water and his breath hitches in his throat which is stinging with pain. There is an ache slowly spreading from the far end of his spine to the back of his neck and he sinks his teeth in the soft flesh of his lips to distract him from the throb of his sore body.

Harry’s furious whisper stops and Luke nods rapidly to whatever it was that Harry told him and scrambles off of the ground, not looking Louis’ way as he flees to the backdoor of the pub, the slamming of the door echoing in the alley behind him.

Louis releases a shallow breath as his shoulders sag with relief that this — whatever that was — is over now. He stares at the closed door until something forces itself into his line of vision and he has to blink a couple of times to realise it’s Harry’s concerned face. The plump lips move, form words but they don’t reach Louis’ ears. It feels a whole lot like he’s underwater - there is a humming, but no proper words get to him.

Hands grab his shoulders and suddenly his back is pressed against the wall. His instincts that just came down from the highstate of alert flicker on and before he actually knows what he’s doing, he spins them around and presses Harry’s front to the wall and twists his arm behind his back, Harry’s underarm crossed on the middle of his spine.

Harry hisses through the back of his teeth, chuckling breathlessly. “Fuck.” He laughs, cheek still glued to the wall. “ _Louis_.”

Louis blinks, letting up from Harry like he’s burned and stumbles a few hasty steps backwards. “Sorry, sorry. I…I don’t know why I did that.” He inhales deeply, widening his eyes.  

Harry turns and rubs his reddened cheek. “Ouch…” He drawls, eyes darting over Louis’ face slowly. “That actually hurt.” He shakes out his arm, rowing it and wiggling his wrist. “You’re really strong for your size. Wouldn’t have guessed.” He licks his lips.

Louis snorts, “Thanks mate.”

“Are you alright though? There’s blood all over…” His pointer finger circles in the air, directed at Louis' neck. “D’you…need a plaster or something?”

Louis barks out a short laugh, “A plaster?” He giggles.

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches though his green eyes narrow in concern. “Seriously.” Harry says, expression softening as he moves closer. “You good?”

“Yeah…” Louis murmurs, heart fluttering as Harry’s finger caress his skin. He swallows, gaze dropping to his shoes. “Look like a badass now with my throat bleeding all over the place.” His joke falls flat when he locks eyes with Harry and sees still unwavering, genuine worry in the pale green. His neck prickles as hot breath hits his face.

Harry cups the curve of his neck, thumb just below the small cut, eyes flickering between the wound and Louis’ eyes. Harry wets his lips, “We should get you cleaned up.” He mumbles, thumb brushing up and down.

“Hmm, better not run into some older lady on the way to your house.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, the sound tingling in Louis’ lower belly. He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly as Harry lessens the air between them.

“Louis…” Harry whispers, fingernails digging in his neck. Louis looks through his haze into Harry’s hooded eyes.

A zip of fire burns through his body.

Harry surges forward, searing their lips together, opening his mouth, forcing Louis’ lips to part and their tongues to slot together. Louis whimpers low in his chest, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair to bring them even closer, so close that there is no space between their bodies anymore, their chests flushed.

Harry shifts his head in the other direction, deepening the kiss with a throaty moan that Louis swallows. Harry’s hands slide from Louis’ neck to his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he guides them until Louis’ back hits the wall.

Harry breaks their kiss, crouching lower and looping his arms around Louis’ upper thighs, hitching them around his waist in one graceful motion. Louis moans as Harry bites his neck, wrapping his arms around Harry’s broad shoulders, hand cupping the nape of Harry's neck and his lips parting in a silent moan as Harry sucks his skin into his mouth. His ankles cross behind the small of Harry’s back.

He lets up from Louis’ skin with a wet sound that rings in Louis’ ears along with the beating of his pounding heart that sits more in his head than his chest. Louis catches Harry’s lip in another kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip, coaxing a hot groan out of Harry’s mouth.

“How…” Harry starts, breathes out against Louis’ lips and pecks his top lip quickly after, “How fucked up is it that it got me all hot seeing you fighting with…” He trails off, tongue sweeping over Louis’ bottom lip and he hums into another kiss as Louis cups his cheek. “Hmm, yeah.”

Louis blinks slowly at Harry, smirking when Harry’s eyes are fixed on his lips, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “You thought me almost losing my life was hot?” He murmurs, the end of his left lip stretching higher than the other. He chuckles breathlessly.

“No…but…” Harry’s voice is just a rasp, his lips swollen and puffy. His eyes flicker to Louis’ throat and he noses at Louis’ neck, burying his face in his shoulder. “I meant…no. _God_!” He chuckles tenderly. “I can’t form words, let me try again.”

Louis laughs quietly, wiggling for Harry to let him stand on his own feet again, feeling Harry’s arms starting to shake under his weight. Harry puts him down but doesn’t put an inch between them, just cupping Louis’ bum.  

Louis’ mouth runs as dry as a desert when he squeezes.

“I think I was in shock or summat.” Harry admits quietly, hands travelling up to Louis’ hips. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.” He pauses, drawing his head out of the crook of Louis’ neck and blinks owlishly at him. “I’m so sorry!” It’s as if Harry has only realised then what actually happened and what he did and didn’t do. “I…-– wow.” He frowns at himself. “I…”

Louis chuckles, kissing Harry’s lip in a much more innocent peck and lifting Harry’s chin with his thumb and index finger. He smiles when their eyes lock. “It’s alright, I didn’t know what was happening until it was already over. We didn’t expect him to go all nuts.” He shrugs. What else is there to say anyway? It’s done. It happened. Louis is still very much alive and he’s got Harry hot and plastered against his front. His life took such an unexpected turn that the possibility that Luke might have actually killed him in their fight seems more likely, come to think of it…

Louis frowns, tugging on a loose curl next to Harry’s ear. He can feel the texture of it between his finger pads, he can feel the hot breath that leaves Harry’s lips on his nose, and he can feel fingernails digging into his sides, like Harry needs something to ground himself with. So, Louis isn't dead.

The hazy edge on his vision clears the longer they stare at each other, like both of them have just woken up from a dream.

Harry clears his throat, ruffles his hair and takes a step back.

Louis should be able to breathe easier, but somehow it hitches the air down his throat and his heart twists.

Harry chuckles, but there is little humour to it. “I just told you…like, today, as in a few hours prior to this, that I’d protect you.” He says, shaking his head. “Look what happened.”

“Nothing happened.” Louis says quickly, stepping away from the wall. “I’m fine.” _I’m more than fine, we were just kissing, I’m great, I waited for this so long, come back, forget what happened with Luke_ — he swallows those words, of course, because the look on Harry’s face is borderline freaking out and Louis needs to bring this situation down to earth before Harry can bolt on him again.

“Nothing happened?” Harry repeats, lifting his brows with a flicker to Louis’ throat. Right. Louis can feel pain over the want that is boiling hotly in his veins, however, the wet-dream come to life is over too.

They stare at each other for a heartfelt beat.

“Let’s go before…” Harry clears his throat, “Someone sees.” He slides his bandana off, stepping towards Louis, gently pulling it over Louis’ head down his neck, hiding the wound and dried blood. His fingers linger on Louis’ skin for a moment, mouth moving but no tone leaves his beautiful lips that were just on Louis’ not two minutes ago.

“I’m truly okay, it’s just a little scratch.  Seriously, I’m fine.” Louis murmurs, not daring to speak any louder with Harry being so close to him.

Harry kisses his cheek. “Let’s go home.”

 

*    *    *

 

Here is what Louis thought was going to happen: Harry wouldn’t look at him or talk to him, would get into his car and then the moment they arrived at the house, he’d disappear. Flee to Manchester. Louis wouldn’t see him for the next two days until Harry hit him up with a message about something random and Louis would jump at the opportunity to see him just for Harry to pretend nothing ever happened, just like after the party. He’d try to stop Louis from dealing since Luke had gone all insane on them. Yada, yada, one negative thing followed by the next. Harry would cut him off completely and Louis would be left with nothing but the memory of soft strawberry lips and a broken heart over a bloody crush.

However, nothing like that happened. His mind went all over the place on the way to Harry’s house for no reason at all.

Instead of all the sullen scenarios he had imagined, he’s got Harry between his parted legs and Harry’s fingers gently pressing down on his skin.

Not quite the wet-dream fantasy, but at least Harry didn’t make a run for it.

They’re in Harry’s tiny bathroom, Louis sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Harry kneeling in front of him between his legs. Harry cleans the wound on his throat with so much care it’s a turn-on and Louis has to take a couple of deep breaths not to get hard as Harry pads the tissue over his skin like Louis is a bloody doll and he’d just break in two if Harry put any more pressure on him.

“All done,” Harry whispers, swiping the soft washcloth a final time over the now cleaned and free of blood wound and stretching to the side to snatch up a white plaster.

“Oh no.” Louis says, “I’m not going to walk around with a plaster on my neck.” He says, narrowing his eyes at Harry’s unimpressed blinking expression.

“Louis.”

“Harry.”

“Louis.”

Louis laughs breathlessly, tilting his head back, studying the ceiling. “You don’t have to baby me, I’m not wearing a plaster.”

“But…” Harry pouts, “It’s…safer that way.”

“From what? I don’t think I’ll bleed out from a little cut that barely hurt, c’mon now.” Louis huffs, rolling his eyes, a smile still on his lips. It kind of feels great to know that Harry cares that much, to witness Harry’s bottom lip jutting outwards in silent protest.

He’s bloody cute. Louis is so gone, damn.

Harry draws his pout into his mouth, sucking on it with a wet sound. Louis breaks their stare and drops his eyes to his lap, fingers tapping on the rim of the bathtub.

A beat of silence passes, then Harry sighs, “Whatever, no plaster for your throat it is.”

Louis laughs quietly at his sassy tone and glances up. “No damsel in distress, remember?” He murmurs, lifting his brows mildly.

Harry huffs, sitting back on his calves. “I remember.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “You still ran after me though.”

Louis gasps. “I did not.”

“ _Harry, Harry wait!_ ” Harry raises his voice, a cheeky smile letting his cheek dimple. “A bit of thunder and you piss yourself.”

Louis shoves at his shoulder. Harry, caught off guard, loses balances when Louis pushes again, his arms rowing in the air until they get a grip on Louis’ underarm. It's too late though, and Harry drags them both tumbling to the ground, Louis on top, his nose crushed against Harry’s sharp collarbone.

Both men are panting.

“Fuck you.” Harry breathes softly, arms flopping to his sides as if he is a cross. “My head hurts.”

Louis wants to stay right here, on the floor, on top of Harry. He can feel Harry’s chest heaving under him and the scent of his spicy cologne is stronger like this. Louis quite enjoys it. However, he draws back then, getting up and helping Harry to his feet too. “I bet I could beat you in a fight with ease.” Louis says, pointedly ignoring Harry's biceps.

Harry laughs, eyes dragging over Louis' front before they snap back up to his eyes again. “Sure.” He lets the word roll over his tongue, brows lifted.

“You might be strong like Hulk but I'm fast like The Flash.”

“You really don't wanna go there Lou.”

“Already am.” Louis narrows his eyes, putting a hand on his hip.

“Today was pure luck.”

“Pure skill.”

“ _Luck_.”

“ _Skill_.”

Harry huffs. Louis shrugs. “Scared you gonna lose against a _midget?_ ”

Harry scrunches his nose, “I really did call you a midget, didn't I?”

Louis laughs, easily. “You did.”

“Whatever, you're hurt. I won't fight you when you're weak. Wouldn't be fair.”

“Weak? _Please_.” Louis emphasis the last word, shouldering past Harry into the bedroom.

“Louis.”

“Wha—” The word ends in a surprised ‘ _ufff_ ’ as Harry collides with him, looping an arm around his waist and fucking throwing both of them onto the bed. Their bodies bounce on the squeaking mattress and Harry hovers over him, a mischievous sparkle in his lucent eyes.

“Weak.” He basically purrs, “Should’ve seen that one coming, little midget.”

Louis wants to laugh and shove Harry, who’s a dead weight on him, off. But his laugh is caught somewhere between the hollow of his throat and his chest, stuck there, sitting just as heavy on his sternum as the loaded heat that engulfs his bones as Harry shifts, planting his underarms on each side of Louis’ head.

Harry’s smile dims and he licks his lips, eyes flickering over Louis’ face like he doesn’t know where to look at first.

“Harry…” Louis whispers, unsure what he actually wants to express.

“Yeah?”

When Louis doesn’t reply, Harry chuckles, burying his nose in the Louis’ curve of his neck and inhaling deeply. The puff of air causes goosebumps to raise on his arms and his thighs to tense between Harry’s parted legs.

“Louis?” Harry murmurs, dropping a kiss to Louis’ jaw. Louis’ eyelashes flutter and a small whimper leaves his mouth.

“Y-yes?”

“I want…” Harry draws his head back to look in Louis’ face, their noses just a fingertip apart. “I want you…to.” He swallows, a small bashful smile lighting up his eyes. “I want you to…fuck me.”

“Am I… dead?” Louis asks, blinking against the haze that is making it hard to concentrate on anything other than how Harry’s lips form words so prettily or how pressed together they are. “Did I die?”

Harry’s face twitches in confusion as he releases a short, soundless, shuddery laugh. Louis' skin tingles.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Nevermind,” Louis rolls his eyes at himself, because — way to go, not embarrassing at all.

Harry searches in his gaze, “What? Why?” He laughs, index brushing just below Louis’ ear.

“Because, Harry,” Louis laughs, self-conscious. “I was…I…” He licks his lips, chuckles again when Harry forces eye-contact. He ignores the blush that heats his cheeks and lifts his eyebrows mildly. “If you couldn’t tell before, I’ve  actually wanted that for a long…long time.” He says the last two words on a huff, watching a light come on in Harry’s eyes before they narrow at him and there is no joking, chuckles or confessions left.

Harry’s lips are soft as he dips his head down. His lips are plush and warm on top of Louis’ own. Harry’s lips leave a small moan when Louis parts his mouth. Harry’s lips are what Louis has thought about at night when he couldn’t sleep.

Harry’s lips bite down on his and Louis’ world stops.

Louis’ mind draws a blank as Harry grinds against him, his hand slipping under the hem of Harry’s shirt, feeling the moist skin on his ribs as his fingernails dig into his flesh, smoothing his palm over the little half-moons his nails left printed on Harry. He swallows the moan that’s sent his way as his hand creeps lower until it cups Harry’s small, sweet bum.

His body frame is wracked by a shiver that causes his toes to curl inward.

“I…” Harry plants a kiss on Louis’ neck, “I wanted this, too.” He murmurs, licking hotly down to the seam of Louis’ shirt that’s riding low on his collarbones. “I wanted you…for so long.” He breathes, sucking a bruise on his skin and Louis can’t do more than cry out in pleasure as his teeth sink sharply in.

“Fuck.” Louis exhales, blinking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s seeing through a veil. “Harry, lemme…”

“Hmm?”

“Lemme just—” Louis bites his lips as Harry rolls his hips against his crotch, the insides of his belly swirling with pleasure. His mind blacks out for a second and when he zones in again, Harry is sitting back on his heels, rolling Louis’ shirt up his stomach and breathing a raspberry kiss over his sensitive skin just beyond his navel. Louis' fingers clench the sheets and he wishes he’d be more prepared for how good it all feels.

It takes another moment for Louis to find any kind of strength, trying to clear his mind of the thick fog.

In one abrupt movement Louis sits upright, wrapping his arms around Harry’s slender waist. In another motion, Louis turns them over, hovering above Harry who blinks up at him like he didn’t expect that at all.

“Weak, huh?” Louis murmurs, smirking.

A slow smiles spreads over Harry’s face, hooded eyes locking with his and there is a moment where they just…do that, breathing each other's panted air and watching the sparks in each other’s eyes.

Then Louis kisses Harry’s jawline with three rapid presses of his lips, his hand sneaking under Harry’s shirt and pulling it up to the middle of Harry’s back. Harry lifts his upper body, stretching his arms for Louis to peel it off completely. It lands somewhere behind them on the ground.

Louis knew Harry had a strong body, he knew hidden under the layers of jumpers and shirts and jackets there was a lithe torso that’s mouthwatering. Harry’s abs clench under Louis’ fingertips as he noses lower from the inked birds to the butterfly that oddly fits Harry, like he was born with it. Louis kisses just below Harry’s nipple, drawing a shuddering moan out of Harry as his fingers roll the nub.

Harry melts under his hands, chest heaving as sweat glitters on his divine milky skin, letting out a soft breathed “Lou” that sounds enticing to Louis’ ears.

Something like masculine pride blooms like a flower in his own chest when he takes a moment to just look at the boy on the sheets, taking in the ink that’s spread over his lean body and the wetness of his lips, the flush that creeps up from Harry’s neck to his cheekbones. His hair is wild, his eyes moving under his closed thin lids.

Louis swallows, bowing and breathing in the sharp smell of sweat that clings to the soft brown hair that peeks out of the waistband of Harry’s skinnies. He sucks a love bite on each of Harry’s defined V-lines and fumbles with the zipper for a second because his hands tremble with utter want.

Harry giggles when Louis looks up at him, chin rested on the button of the jeans. Harry lets another giggle escape. “Your fringe is tickling me.”

Louis snorts, shaking his head lightly side to side, his hair brushing Harry’s naked skin and Harry moans another of those cute boyish giggles. Louis smiles against his skin before dipping his thumbs in the waistband of Harry’s trousers, pulling them, as well as his boxers, down the swell of his bum until they cling around Harry’s knees.

Harry’s red, precome leaking cock lays heavy on his stomach.

As Louis blows hot breath on the head, Harry’s abs clench.

He licks from the bottom of the shaft to the top, enjoying the salty taste that’s stronger around the slit. He darts his tongue out, kitten licks over it and earns a throaty groan. Harry’s fingers find his hair, running through the strands tenderly.

Louis looks up as he stretches his lips around the head, finding Harry already looking at him. When their eyes lock, Louis swirls his tongue slowly around him and Harry’s lashes flutter shut as he throws his head back in pleasure.

He takes more of him in, hollowing his cheeks as he bobs his head in quick movements, his thumbs digging left and right in Harry’s hips to keep him on the mattress. He draws an even breath in through his nostrils, enjoying the thickness of Harry’s dick on his tongue. Saliva drips out of Louis’ mouth as he widens his lips and relaxes his jaw, pooling in Harry’s navel.

Harry thrusts up, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Louis’ throat and he pulls back to gag and cough, as wetness springs in his eyes.

“Sorry.” Harry pants, laughing breathlessly. “S-sorry.”

Louis hums around him and cups his balls. Harry’s laugh hitches in his throat and is replaced by a long, deep moan that ends in a higher whine, as Louis rolls his balls between his fingers. Louis withdraws to breathe and licks his already spit-slick lips, wiping the back of his hand over them afterwards.

“I think…you’re wearing too much fabric.” Harry says, voice hoarse as he tugs on the hem of Louis’ shirt.

Louis frowns at himself, only realising then that Harry is right. He’s still fully clothed in jeans and a shirt that is glued to his hot skin. He chuckles softly, palming himself through the layer of clothes and feeling his cock throb. He swallows before crossing his arms at the hem, pulling his shirt over his head. Shaking out his fringe to the side, he lets the shirt dangle from the tip of his finger before letting it fall on the ground. His trousers join Harry’s clothes on the floor a moment later and he feels so much hotter now that he’s naked except for his boxers, under the Harry’s roaming eyes which travel up and down the length of his torso. They linger on the obvious outline of his cock, Harry licking his bottom lip slowly, before his eyes snap up to meet Louis’ gaze.

“C’mere,” He rasps, lifting himself up on his elbow. Louis leans forward, Harry cupping the arch of his neck as he draws him in for an open-mouthed, wet kiss. Their lips smack together, the sound loud in the quiet bedroom, both breathing out of their noses.

Louis surges up, sliding his knees forward until they cage in Harry’s hips, his covered cock lining up with Harry’s and both hiss into another gasped kiss. Louis steadies himself with one hand on Harry’s shoulder and lets up from his sinful lips, rolling his pelvis down and catching Harry’s moan. He nibbles at Harry’s bottom lip and plants little, quick kisses along Harry’s jaw.

Harry’s large hands grope his bum, and Louis jerks down on him as he squeezes gently but firmly.  He moans a laugh near Harry’s ear and nibbles on his earlobe as Harry kisses the top of his shoulder.

“You’re so hot.” Harry mumbles.

Louis tenses for a second, releasing Harry’s ear and wrinkling his nose at Harry. “Yeah…I’m a bit worked-up if you haven’t noticed.” He says, another shoot of heat colouring his cheeks. He sweeps his fringe to the side in sudden bashfulness.

Harry’s shoulders tremble with a silent laugh. He shakes his head, cupping Louis’ cheek, thumb caressing the highest point of Louis’ cheekbone. Lascivious green eyes shimmer in amusement. “That’s…” He laughs again, hot air fanning over Louis’ sulky face. “That’s not what I meant, I…” He licks his lips, dropping a kiss on the right corner of Louis’ mouth. “I meant _you’re_ hot.”

Louis closes his eyes briefly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” Harry’s hand smoothes from his cheek to the curve of his neck, Louis’ ear between his index and middle finger, thumb still brushing softly over Louis’ cheek, “Absolutely gorgeous.” The murmured words are followed by a brush to Louis’ top lip.

Louis swallows, though his mouth is dry.

“So…you’re going to fuck me, or do I have to do it myself?” Harry drawls, crooking an eyebrow.

Louis huffs an airy laugh. “Charming.”

Harry nibbles at the thin skin covering Louis’ chin, “Only for you.”

Only for you.

Before Louis can think about those three little muttered words, there are a soft pair of lips on his and whilst his body burns with flaming want, his mind burns to ash, those words on loop in the back of his head as he cups Harry’s jawline, hardening their kiss, sweeping his tongue over Harry’s and groaning as Harry catches his flesh between his teeth, biting so sharply that Louis is certain it’ll draw blood.

Louis sneaks a hand between their bodies, fingers curling loosely around Harry’s shaft whilst his lips suck a wet bruise on Harry’s collarbone. His thumb circles around the slit, smearing precome over the head.

“Harry.”

“Y-yeah?” His voice shakes as Louis twists his hand softly over his cock. “Hmm?”

Louis doesn’t look at him, doesn’t dare to, just concentrates on painting Harry’s neck in more little perfect round love bites that stand out against his creamy skin. Red and glittering with slick spit.

“I won’t fuck you.” Whilst his words are slow and quiet, his hand picks up, sliding up and down Harry’s length.

“What? Why?” Harry gasps. When Louis doesn’t reply, he tugs on the soft hair at the nape of Louis’ neck.

When green meets blue, Louis’ hand slows but never stops, just putting so much pressure around Harry’s cock that Harry’s breath comes out in little puffs of hot air.

“Because I’m a gentleman?” Louis quirks an eyebrow, licking his lips. He actually can’t believe the words himself. He wanted so long for this to happen and now he, himself is putting a halt to his desire.

Harry’s gaze shies away from him, lower, to a spot on Louis’ throat, then he groans, falling back on his back and staring at the ceiling for a split-second.

Fear prickles in his neck that he’s ruined his chances completely, but there is a smile curling on Harry’s lips and when his eyes look at Louis again, they shimmer with something…like, fondness, happiness, something that licks at Louis’ heart the longer they maintain eye contact. Louis pulls his hand away anyway, feeling exposed with the words that are out and heard, that can never make their way back down his throat and die somewhere at the bottom of his belly.  

What is wrong with him anyway, he’s got Harry where he wanted him — sweating and moaning between his thighs. Somehow it doesn’t lessen the meaning of his words, and somehow he can’t bring himself to actually want to take them back. He knew before that Harry wasn’t a random guy he met at a club, it’s Harry.

He wants to do this right.

Harry stares at him, cock lazily lying on his stomach that still heaves with big breaths, not a bit bashful about his nudity.

“I like that.” Harry says, voice hoarse and so deep.

“Yeah?” Louis smiles, leaning forward and putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders to balance himself.

“I do.” Harry whispers.

Thank fuck. Hallelujah. Praise the Lord and the Gods above. It’s hard but he can hold back all the praises that swirl around in his stomach, swimming in the warmest of feelings. Instead of embarrassing himself any further than he’s done already today, he murmurs a quiet ‘Good’ just before their lips reconnect and there aren’t any words left to be spoken between them.

It all becomes a flaming, fire-catching white and red blank space in Louis’ mind as he grips Harry again and starts jerking him, faster and firmer than before. Swallowing each and every single pant, moan, and whimper that leave Harry’s swollen lips, he corkscrews him in a new angle that has Harry shooting his load between their chests with a last, deep cry, head thrown back and mouth slack. The vein on his neck strains, lifting the thin skin rapidly.

Louis kisses the vein, feeling it press and sink against the tip of his tongue as he licks along the pounding line.

Harry goes completely pliant under him, lax against the white duvet.

With a final lick over the salty, moist skin Louis draws his head back, just enough for them to be on eye-level, and kisses the corner of Harry’s parted lips.

“So beautiful.” Louis murmurs, “The most beautiful.” He adds with another kiss to Harry’s flushed cheek.

Harry chuckles but the sound is so low and quiet it’s mostly just a puff of air. He gasps a couple of times, gulping down oxygen before his lashes flutter open and he smiles up at Louis.

“Hmm,” He brushes their lips together, his hand cupping the nape of Louis’ neck, bringing him lower. “Let me…” He murmurs, hand travelling down and palming Louis through the material of his boxers. Louis hisses as his slender fingers dance over him and he follows the teasing touch.

He groans in Harry’s hair, above his ear, arms shaking from the way he’s holding himself up. Between his weight and the pleasure that zips through his body, it’s difficult to maintain balance and not to just give in and fall flat on top of Harry.

“I’m…” Louis says, his voice gruff, “I’m fucking…close. God!” His arms give out as Harry’s fingers sneak into his boxers and wrap around his shaft, the touch still light but fireworks and dotted colours explode behind his closed lids. “Fucking…”

Without letting up from Louis, Harry rolls them around, hovering over Louis with hooded eyes. He noses at Louis’ throat, his hand still working over Louis as he kisses his way down Louis’ torso, nibbling at random spots on Louis’ heaving ribs.

He lets up from him and Louis whimpers in protest at the loss of contact.

Harry rolls his boxers down the swell of his bum and Louis’ cock snaps up to his stomach with an audible slap. Harry blows over the sensitive, leaking head and Louis clenches the muscles in his stomach to stop himself from coming right there and then. He swallows, biting the inside of his cheek as he grips a handful of Harry’s curls.

Harry noses at his groin, rolling his balls in one hand while the other teases up and down Louis’ shaft in corkscrewing motions. Louis throws an arm over his face, his cry muffled. Harry licks a long line from the bottom to the head, then his lips stretch around Louis and suck him in deeper with a libidinous slurp and Louis bites on his forearm, his toes curling and his back arching off the mattress without his permission. Harry moans with him and the vibration sends chills from his crotch all through his heaving body, his ears ringing in a luscious way and he only has one-second to tug hard on Harry’s hair as warning before his arse tenses and his head rolls to the side. He wails out into the pillow under the impact of his orgasm.

Harry swallows around him, milking him until there is no more come leaking and Louis is a ruined mess on the covers, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets as he pants helplessly at the ceiling.

His lashes shut and he licks his lips, trying to steady himself though he’s laying down.

There is rustling then a shadow hovers over his face and there are lips kissing his slack mouth, a tongue sliding in, slotting over his and Louis hums as he tastes himself. Without opening his eyes, he cradles Harry’s cheek, guiding them in opposite directions as he deepens the kiss, his tongue nudging Harry’s playfully before they let up from each other with a sweltering smack and loudly draw in breaths through their nostrils.

Louis blinks his eyes open.

“Hi.” Harry whispers, caressing his cheek and dropping a peck to the tip of Louis’ nose.

“Hey.” Louis chuckles, hand smoothing down Harry’s shoulder to his outer flexing bicep. His gaze hangs on a spot near Harry’s rib then his eyes wander over his skin to his face, to the green eyes that look at him with compassion.

“Y’alright?”

“I am.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles, dimple showing and deepening when Louis’ fingers brush over the smaller part of Harry’s back. Harry shivers, the soft hair under Louis’ fingertip raising. “D’you want to…stay over?”

Louis holds his breath in his lungs for a second, and releases it all at once, stomach sinking inward. “Yes.” Louis nods, “I’d like that.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” Louis echoes.

Both grin at each other, eyes flickering side to side. They both chuckle at the same time and turn their heads. Louis tries to stifle his smile in the pillow, Harry hides his grin on his shoulder, and Louis wouldn’t trade this moment for anything else in the world.

 

*   *   *

 

After they showered separately –- due to a phone call Harry had to take while Louis already was in the shower anyway –- they built a little part of heaven in the backyard. A fluffy blanket is spread over the cold grass, both laying on their sides, mirroring their positions, cheeks bedded on their palms and their elbows keeping them upright, facing each other and handing a spliff back and forth. Between them are two bottles of beer, an already snowed ashtray and a pack of John Player Special cigarettes (they covered the picture of the Frankenstein leg with a pink post-it), the red pack standing out in contrast to the dark blue blanket.

The weed is great, the haze Louis is in is great, and Harry’s laugh is the greatest thing of all things that are great and great and great. Harry is great, Louis is stoned and warm. It’s great.

Harry giggles in delight as the perfect smoke ring that was directly blown at his face never touched his skin but turned to a veil that hung between them until the summer wind that weaved around them carried away the curls of smoke that puffed from Louis’ lips.

Louis hands back the joint and rolls on his back, flexing his calves and arching his back off the blanket as he gets comfortable with his arms crossed behind his head. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Harry stumping out the little butt of the spliff.

The silence is serene, the low ringing in Louis’ ears a buzzing background noise mixed with the heavy thundering of his heart that sits stone-like in the hollow of his throat. Harry insisted that he covers the cut after they finished their showers, telling him it’ll get infected otherwise, and yada, yada and whatnot. Louis only allowed Harry to take care of it again because, well, Harry cares and Louis can’t resist the feeling of Harry’s light fingertips smoothing over his throat and neck until the plaster was just the right pressure and no edge stood up from his skin.

Louis rests his eyes for a moment, enjoying the big mush that is his mind and the quiet that came with it.

A random thought pops up behind his closed lids, and he almost lets it slip past him but his imaginary fingers catch it, trap it in a little jar and shake it awake until Louis parts his lips, “Harry, those paintings in your bedroom…” He starts, after he hears the low, lazy hum from his left, he continues, voice slow and sluggish, “did you paint them?” He rotates his head, peeking at Harry’s side profile through slow swoops of his lashes. Louis didn’t notice Harry’s lying down too.

“I did.” Harry murmurs, nudging his nose just beyond his armpit. He tugs on his tank top. “They’re old though.”

“They’re beautiful.”

Harry’s eyes light up, “Yeah?”

Louis nods, “They truly are.” There is so much honesty that seeps through his voice, he hopes it won’t get carried away like the ash, he hopes they’ll travel all the way to Harry, to his ears and he’ll hear how much Louis means it. He kind of wishes they weren’t high for the subject, but then again, maybe it’s a good thing, considering Harry’s eyes shy away from him, his gaze clouded just like the sky above.

Louis watches his Adam’s apple bob with a forceful swallow. Harry looks at him again, a smile, shy and young, curving on his lips as their eyes meet. Louis’ stomach flutters with the memory of those very lips stretched around his cock just a couple of hours prior.

“Thank you.” Harry whispers.

“You’re blessed with a great talent, H, it’s a gift. Those paintings belong in an art gallery.”

Harry snorts, gazing sideways. Louis frowns.

“I’m being serious.”

“Sure,” Harry huffs, “they’re just random drawings I created when I was in college.”

“They don’t look random.”

“Well,” Harry drawls, frowning himself.

“Well?” Louis prompts as Harry doesn’t offer any more.

“I…” Harry's nose wrinkles, Louis smiles softly. “I used to draw all the time, y’know? Back then, when we moved from Holmes Chapel to Macclesfield, it was just the beginning of college. I met Niall right at the start, Lara too.” He shrugs, the blanket shifting with the motion. “Niall has this weird uncle from Ireland, yeah? And, he’s into art, not sure if it’s actually his profession or just a hobby…” He purses his lips, trailing off and Louis nudges his toe against Harry’s shin for him to carry on with his story. “Anyway, Niall has this uncle and Niall’s uncle is just as much of a social butterfly as Niall.” They both smile at that. “And he knows this dude from London, who’s an art professor for Kings College, who had a look at a few of my paintings.”

Harry takes a deep breath, flat stomach ballooning, he exhales, lips flapping and making a sound like a horse breathing through its nostrils. “He invited me to his art classes, just a couple of sessions, but still, he loved what I created, for…whatever reason.” Harry laughs self-consciously, Louis widening his smile, his eyes crinkling at Harry. “He talked to some people, apparently he’s pretty good with the director from the King College and they offered me a half-scholarship after graduating.”

“Harry, that’s ama—”

“It’s not.” Harry cuts him off with a clipped voice, a line appearing between his pushed together eyebrows. “It’s really not, because even though my mum was over the moon, and I was too, I couldn’t take it. I said yes but had to decline it after – _whatever_.” He sniffs, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “I…stopped drawing after that, too.” There is a beat of silence, then Harry murmurs, “I used to love painting, since I was a toddler, I would just…like, smash colours together and when I leaned how to hold a pencil in the correct way I…uh — just kept going, I guess.”

Harry shrugs again, “It made my mum happy, I used to paint for her all the time, In school I spent most of my class just doodling aimlessly.” He laughs, Louis chuckles along, “I stopped counting how many times my teacher took the paper plus all my pencils away from me, I had to take the notes from my fellow classmates home to copy their stuff.” They both laughed at that this time around. “So yeah, that’s all there is to the drawings.” He ends, mood sobering slightly.

Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s because they had sex, maybe it’s the sad expression colouring Harry’s face, but in the end it doesn’t matter what urges Louis on to reach out and take Harry’s hand in his. He laces their fingers together, concentrating on soothing his thumb over Harry’s knuckles and not on the small inhale Harry takes at Louis’ action. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was all in Louis’ fuzzy mind, swirling with information.

However, the wind doesn’t swallow and Louis’ mouth is so dry from the marijuana that his tongue sticks to the roof, so it couldn’t be him that forcefully bobbed his Adam’s apple.

Harry swallowed and Louis tries to untangle their fingers immediately.

Harry holds on tighter, squeezing his hand and thumbing against the curve between Louis’ thumb and index. Louis stops trying to pull away.

Harry’s hand is much larger than his own, the warmth radiating off of it in waves seeping through Louis’ skin, travelling to his body in little electrical dots until the feeling needles his heart, letting it flip upside down and swoop; drowning in warmth.

It’s definitely the weed. Of course it is.

“How old are you, Harry?” Louis whispers, throat closing in on itself.

“I’m nineteen. Why?”

“Because you’re so young, so young…and you’ve too much of a great talent to throw it away.”

Harry sighs. Louis looks up, studying Harry’s side profile, whilst Harry stares into the sky, like it holds all of the answers to his unspoken questions. Maybe it does, who knows? Not Louis, all he knows is that Harry is a great artist and Louis' heart clenches for him, just the fact that he used past tense to talk about his mum is heartbreaking. Harry is too young to experience such great suffering.

“I had dreams.” Harry says, almost toneless. Louis heard those words before, it lets his breath come out shaky as he waits for Harry to say more. “But,” he turns his head, smiling sadly at Louis, “It’s over now, it never truly begun in the first place, it’s whatever.” He blinks rapidly, focusing on a spot beyond Louis’ head, then his pale green eyes lock with his. “Let’s just forget I said anything.”

Louis won’t forget a single word of this conversation, it’s burned in his soul and he’ll carry it around for the rest of his life. This day, today, will always be a part of him, he thinks. He knows. He…

He sighs, swallowing around the lump in his throat and squeezes Harry.

“You’re only nineteen.” Louis repeats, slowly. “You’ve got your whole life still ahead of you.”

Harry frowns. Louis mirrors him.

“No, it’s over.”

“Harry—”

“It’s over, please, just leave it.” Harry interrupts, voice not exactly harsh but firm enough for Louis to understand he’s serious.

Louis smiles tightly. “Alright.” He says, “It’s a shame, though.”

Harry shrugs, glances away but doesn’t draw out of their hand-holding position. And Louis…he’s just glad he’s revealed a little piece about Harry. He’s happy Harry even answered his question, so he kisses the back of Harry’s hand to let him know he’s here for him.

They don’t beak into deeper subjects for the rest of their stay outside.

 

*    *    *

 

“Reckon animals can read minds?”

Harry stops in his motions, potato crisps halfway to his already opened mouth, tongue sticking out. His brows lift and he plops the crisps on his tongue, chewing slowly. “And you say I’m random.” He chuckles, swallowing and wiping the grease off on his shirt.

“But do you?” Louis prompts.

“Hm,” Harry hums, waist flexing to the side and arm reaching out for the phone on the bedside table. “I don’t know.” He says, gaze darting between Louis and his phone screen, thumb flying over the display to type. He grins, “Let’s see what Google says.”

Louis snorts, spooning up some mint-chocolate-chip ice cream and sticking it in his mouth. The coldness of the ice cream makes his teeth sting, a chill runs down his spine and he shivers, although the bedroom is warm and the blanket is cozy.

After it started raining, they decided to bring their two-people-party back indoors. In silent agreement they walked through the living room, not giving the couch a single glance, and went directly for the staircase.

Harry cups another handful of crisps, dipping his head back to get all of them in his open, awaiting mouth. His eyes skim over his phone.

“And?” Louis asks, swallowing the ice cream and licking the back of the spoon, “What does google say?”

“I quote: But the question remains: Can your dog read your mind?” Harry puts on an anchor-man voice, deep drawl emphasising the most important words, “It’s no surprise that dogs were amongst the first animals to be domesticated by man…” Harry grunts, “What the fuck Google, just answer the stupid question.” He rolls his eyes, Louis chuckles, cheeks puffed out around the spoon. Harry sighs and continues reading aloud, “Dr. Coates says, ‘studies…’ yada, yada…wait—” Harry frowns, “Well,” He pouts, “they can’t read minds, but body language and, well, verbal commands, whether or not they’re being observed.” Harry locks his phone, tossing it carelessly on the bedside table.

“So once again, Google is a total party-pooper.” Louis muses, stabbing more ice cream with his spoon.

“How creepy would it be if they could, though?” Harry asks, rolling onto his stomach and bedding his cheek on his knuckles. “I mean,” He chuckles, “I sure hope no one can read my mind, no matter if animal or human or…” His nose wrinkles, “I hope, if there is a God out there, he won’t have the ability to glimpse into my mind.”

“Why?” Louis asks, grinning. He pokes Harry’s foot with his toe.

Harry’s lips stretch to a lopsided smirk, dimple cheekily popping out. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” He drawls, kittenish and with sparkling green eyes. “Hmmm?”

“There is probably some tune playing on loop in your mind.” Louis says, placing the ice cream container on the floor and mirroring Harry, he lets his legs swing in the air.

“Hey…” Harry pouts, “a tune?” He scrunches his nose.

“Yeah, sometimes…” Louis laughs, Harry smiles, curious and amused, “sometimes you look like you’ve got an inside joke running through your pretty head.” He shrugs, “Maybe you’re just thinking about all the weird knock-knock jokes or…” Harry laughs, Louis giggles, “I don’t know, some tune, yeah.” Louis starts humming a random melody, Harry laughs harder. Their eyes crinkle at each other.

“You’re so weird sometimes.” Harry says, “Random and weird.” He sighs, smirk stretching his lips once more, “But there isn’t exactly a tune playing in my head, well…” He bobs his head, “sometimes—” Louis snaps his finger at him, crying out a cackled, ‘Called it!’. Harry paws at his finger, rolling his eyes, giggling. “However, lately, there are some other, more important things I think about…”

“Like what?” Louis asks. Lifting his brows, he rolls onto his side, propping his elbow on the sheets, resting his cheek on his palm and blinking slowly at Harry.

The giggling dims in Harry’s eyes, replaced by something sincere, soft and serene. He licks his lips, averting his eyes to the space between their bodies. “Well, there is this little midget that’s been pretty much consuming my mind for quite some while now.”

Louis’ lips pop to a circle.

“Anyway,” Harry clears his throat, rubbing below his nose and sitting up, not looking at Louis as he scoots to the edge of the bed. “Let’s watch Sex in the City, yeah? I can make some tea. I might have some biscuits left, depends on if Niall ate the rest. If not, there are still some brownies, so…” He rambles, speaking much faster than his usual slow drawl. Harry glances over his tense shoulder, but still doesn’t look Louis in the eye as he ruffles his hair. “Sounds good, yeah?”

Fluttery warmth settles in Louis’ stomach. His throat is swollen, and somehow he’s lost the ability to speak altogether, the hand that’s not supporting his head lays limp on the sheets. His pinky twitches but other than that, he oddly has lost not only his voice, but the connection between his brain and his muscles.

However, when Harry lets out another of those shaky breaths, it awakens Louis’ body in motion, the underwater feeling he endured zooms out and suddenly there is the heavy pounding of his heart back in his chest and his bones are filled with energy.

“Harry,” He says, much more rushed than he wanted it to sound, but Harry heard him, facing him with nervous flickering eyes.

“Uhm, uh, yeah?”

“Uhm, uh - come here,” Louis smiles, sitting upright and widening his arms, “You cannot say something like that and try to distract me with a film and food.”

Harry chuckles, but it sounds just as rough and breathy as his voice before; nervous and unsure. It takes another moment with Louis sitting with spread arms and Harry staring at him until Harry finally gets in Louis’ arms, burying his face directly in the curve of Louis' neck and wrapping him in a bone-crushing and heartwarming embrace.

“Sorry, sorry, we…uh, we were just joking around and having a good, fun time and I, uh, turned it all serious.” Harry mumbles, voice muffled.

Louis sinks on his back, taking Harry with him. “I’m still having a good, fun time.” Louis says, stroking Harry’s spine. “Serious, with you, is still something I’d enjoy.” He admits to the ceilings, blinking rapidly because, wow, so many confessions in such a short time of period.

“Really?” Harry asks, voice quiet but gaining more of his usual confidence.

“Hmm…”

Harry kisses his neck. Louis goes still.

“Are you done being a gentleman for the day?” Harry murmurs. “Because I’d really like to…”

“Watch Sex in the City?”

“Because I’d really like to have sex with you.” Harry removes his face from Louis’ neck, eyes darting side to side over Louis’ features, “If you want that.”

“I…” Louis licks over the back of his front teeth behind his closed lips. “I…” He tries again, fumbling.

Harry’s eyes start shimmering in amusement again, arching his brows at Louis. “You…”

“Fuck being a gentleman. Kiss me.” Louis huffs, already cupping the back of Harry’s hair, pulling him in and catching Harry’s smiling lips in a searing kiss.

Harry hums, tightening his arms around Louis.

“Are you sure?” Louis murmurs between closed-lip kisses, “I mean…are you sure?”

They both chuckle in each other’s mouths, their flushed chests vibrating.

“Very sure, if you haven’t noticed.” Harry rolls his hips against him, an unmistakable bulge rutting against Louis’ cock. They both smile in the next kiss, but their faces are wiped of any boyish amusement when Louis’ arches off the mattress with a soft moan, lessening the air between their groins.

Louis hugs Harry’s hips with his thighs, rolling them around. He links their fingers above Harry’s head, his thumbs nudging the headboard. He plants a hot kiss to Harry’s jawline, then seeks eye-contact, only to notice Harry’s eyes are already on him.

“Lube? Condom?” Louis pants, nosing along Harry’s pulse point, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and masculine sweat.

“Bedside table,” Harry rasps, chest rising and falling. Louis nods and with a last kiss to Harry’s skin, he untangles their fingers, and scoots to the side.

Next to some random knick-knacks and a run-down, dog-eared version of the book Immortal Poems, Edited by Oscar William, is a whole new bottle of unscented lube and a few condoms in different sizes.

Louis puts the lube and condom next to them on the pillow, swallowing and closing the drawer.

“You read poetry?” Louis asks, straddling Harry in one smooth movement and cupping Harry’s cheek, thumbing over Harry’s wet bottom lip.

“Sometimes,” Harry whispers, smiling, “Not too much though, can’t quote you anything, I’m afraid. It’s good for inspiration though.”

“Hmm…” Louis grazes over the curve of Harry’s pretty, exposed neck. “Harry Styles, a mystery.”

Harry rolls his eyes, lips already parted with words of protest on his tongue but Louis catches them before heavy confessions, excuses, or deflections can suck all of the oxygen out of the room.

No more serious subjects for today. With that thought in mind, Louis goes down on Harry, pulling his shirt up as he wanders further south.

Louis wants to make Harry feel amazing; replacing the pressure, the soreness, the events of the day with only good feelings, only good thoughts — only pleasure and sweat.

So he does, and he succeeds. Harry is a pliant mess on the white sheets in no time, broken moans and words of pleading and pleasure leaving Harry’s pink lips.

A sudden warmth blooms like a flower during spring in the muscle that is his heart. As Harry breathes his name the feeling of ecstasy grows and with it the thought life still has more in store for him than he could ever have imagined.   


 

***   *   ***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday!

 

***    *    ***

 

 

It might be the first time Louis has woken up before someone else. Today, ‘ _ someone else _ ’ is Harry. Their legs are tangled and the covers pool around their hips, chilly air floating in from the cracked gap of the window, making Louis shiver slightly. Letting his lashes flutter, he looks straight at the peacefully sleeping face of Harry.

He is snoring softly, little puffs of air escaping his parted lips. With each exhale, a strand of a loose curl blows up and down, almost getting caught between his pink lips. 

Louis reaches out, tugging the little bouncy rebellious curl out of his beautiful face and behind his tiny ear. When his fingers make contact with Harry’s skin, the boy smacks his lips together, eyes moving under closed lids. 

Humming to himself, Louis untangles their legs, trying carefully not to wake Harry completely and slips out from underneath his arm. Harry’s finger curl into the sheets when Louis scoots to the edge of the bed. 

Stretching, he stands and pads into the bathroom, lazily scratching at his bare hip. Louis turns on the light before washing his face with bone-freezing and mind-awakening water. 

Louis dries himself after, trying  _ not _ to think. 

So, yeah without thinking, he opens the cabinet — another bad habit. He's always snooping in people's bathrooms because he knows they hide all their shit there. Whilst people pretend to be happy on the outside, they are most definitely not on the inside. And all of them want to keep it that way, like Lottie did, like Louis does. So next to a full tube of toothpaste and some hair ties, there’s usually bottles with pain numbing stuff hidden away. 

Louis mindlessly touches the little orange bottles, although there aren’t a lot. Some vitamins, mouthwash…a brand new bottle of lube, whatever it’s doing in there. And then, as his fingers curl around the painkillers, his throat gives a little squeak. Screwing it open, he takes out five. Harry won’t notice because it’s nearly untouched, which means he’s not using it…so he won’t find out that some of them are gone.  _ Whatever _ . If he finds out maybe he’ll think he took them, if not, Louis will just lie and say he wasn’t feeling well. 

Putting the bottle back in place, and closing the cabinet with a soft clink, he swallows them dry like he usually does. One by one, they slide down his throat. He tries not to cringe at the feeling of them getting a tad stuck. His Adam's apple bobs, forcing them to slide into his stomach. 

He sighs, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. What he’s seeing is a ghost. Pale skin, bloodshot blue eyes, hollow cheeks. There is stubble on his jaw and above his upper lip. Louis scrubs at it, thinking he really does need to shave when he gets back to Lottie’s. He looks like some homeless person. 

Louis can't fool himself, saying it’s caused by lack of sleep, because he might not have gotten eight-hours of beauty sleep but the hours that he did manage to close his eyes and sink into a wonderland full of fluffy dreams were peaceful. He’s not really eating healthily, but when has he ever? Same goes for the drugs, nothing new. But still, his reflection matches how shitty he feels, as if he's living some unhealthy lifestyle, hm. He doesn't understand and has absolutely no desire in figuring it out. 

When he’s done in the bathroom, he slips back in the bedroom, pulling on his jeans from yesterday, trying to be quick and quiet so he doesn’t disturb the sleeping boy in the mess of the angelic cloud-bed. 

His stomach flutters when his gaze lingers on the softness of Harry’s face, then he sighs to himself, padding through the hallway. He drags his feet down the stairs, picking up the cigarette pack from the coffee table, eyeing their still half full mugs from yesterday. After they had cleaned themselves up and taken a short nap, they had gone downstairs, snuggling close on the sofa with mugs of aromatic tea and watched the first part of  _ Sex in the City. _

“I don’t want to think,” Louis says aloud to the mugs, “don’t remind me.” He sends them a glare for good measure, before slipping out onto the terrace. 

The morning air feels crisp on his naked chest and he wishes he had at least thought to put on a jumper. 

The cigarette will have to make it up for it, he supposes, sucking on it and gazing at the sky, hoping the butt will warm him up. 

It can’t be later than eight in the morning, Louis isn’t sure when the last time was that he got up this early. 

He loves sleep, he loves sleeping in late. So what? It’s been his life for the past year. 

The cigarette does its job in waking him up, forcing the hazy fog out of his brain and allowing all the thoughts to come in. It’s not a storm or tornado like he’d expected. It’s one thought following another and he holds his breath for a moment, keeping the smoke trapped in his lungs. 

Louis got Harry off; Harry returned the favour. Louis fucked Harry; Harry wanted to be fucked by Louis and told him he's been thinking about him lately. Needless to say, Louis' crush bloomed, growing into a full-blown, mind-consuming thing that wouldn't let him fall asleep though Harry's even breaths were like a bittersweet melody that echoed in Louis' skull. 

Eventually, he fell asleep, dead to the world, tucked in under the comfortable weight of Harry's arm and the smell of vanilla-shampoo and the sea-scent of Harry's body-wash. 

Louis has never slept so well, even if it was only for a handful of serene hours. He felt safe next to Harry. 

However, it was a bad idea, Louis muses. They won’t acknowledge that it happened, instead ignoring it. It was probably the only time Louis will have the pleasure of pleasuring Harry. He doesn't want to ruin the memory of something that makes his heart beat fast with a talk that ends with  _ ‘it was a mistake, let's just be friends, mate.’ _

Why ever did Harry let him taste him, get so close to him that Louis could hear his heartbeat and feel his pulse rise and fall under his tongue, Louis isn’t certain. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the Luke-situation, like an aftermath. Louis can't explain why Harry would let him stay. There is no way Louis' mind is awake enough to spin a possible lie that he can get drunk on, why Harry let him sleep beside him when there wasn't anyone taking the spot on the couch for the night. No Lara, no Niall, no Liam, no other explanation other than Harry wanted Louis with him in his bedroom. 

It doesn't feel like a mistake. It doesn't feel like a one-night-stand. 

But...it not turning out to be another mistake on the list of mistakes that grew eye-widening long, would be just too great, right? It's Louis after all. He isn't lucky. Misery seeks him out in the weirdest ways. 

Louis huffs and stumps out his cigarette. He’s incapable of figuring Harry's intentions out, so he'll stop right there, rather directing his thoughts to Lottie, his sister whom he hasn't seen or talked to in forty-eight hours. Rubbing the rest of the sleep out of his eyes, he lets out a high-pitched sigh. 

Well, he’s got to change that rather soon than later. He knows they will have a fight about it. 

His train of unpleasant thoughts is stopped by a weird feeling in his stomach. It kind of turns in on itself, bile creeping up the clenching walls of his throat.He clears his airways, swallowing the burning bitterness down. The weird turning and twisting whirlwind stays in his gut as he re-enters the house, shoulders drawn up to his ears because although the cigarette woke him up, it didn’t keep him warm. 

His tongue is kind of fuzzy, though he didn't consume alcohol last night, and Louis tries not to freak out when it starts to feel dangerously like cotton. 

_ Food _ , that’s why his body is acting up. He needs food, hasn’t eaten since…

He can’t remember, maybe since the ice cream. 

Anyway, his stomach twists again, keeping him aware that he’s got to change the fact that it's been empty for far too long. 

Opening every single cabinet and drawer in the kitchen, he hums, pursing his lips. Getting out two bowls and a couple of silver spoons, he fixes himself and Harry cereal — because of obvious reasons. 

Better not burn down Harry’s home, he thinks, as he pours milk into the bowls and slowly, so as not to spill anything, makes his way upstairs. 

Louis' doubts about mistakes and one night stands and fear that Harry's going to tell him to leave and lets stay friends, yada, yada, fall away when he enters the bedroom with a final, big exhalation. 

Harry is already sitting up against the headboard and when he opens the door, sleepy eyes blink at him, a smile illuminating his face when they make eye-contact. Louis' knees turn to goo. 

“Morning.” He rasps, voice still hoarse from sleep. “Was wondering where you were at.” 

Louis smiles silently, lifting the bowls before placing them on the bedside table. He sits on the edge of the bed, one of Harry’s legs pressed against his lower back. It's grounding.

“Hi,” Louis says quietly, “sleep well?” He asks, fingers itching to reach out and run through Harry’s hair…which would be weird, right? Yeah, better not. 

He wouldn’t be able to stand it if Harry flinches from his touch, soft smile visible or not. Instead he wiggles his fingers under his thighs, just in case they act out and just do what they please. 

“I fixed us brekkie.” Louis says, wrinkling his nose, glancing at the cereal, “I mean, it’s milk and flakes, nothing  _ special _ …but y’know, it’s basically the only thing I can’t burn, so.” He shrugs bashfully, feeling like the biggest tosser. He never learned to cook, ordered takeaway if he got hunger pains, or he’d just sneak something out of the kitchen from his parents, knowing they had some cook send them food for when they came home from work, too tired to fix something themselves. Well,  _ besides _ …family dinner. However, the point is Louis can’t cook and it’s the first time in his life that he’s regretted not learning to make something easy as fuck, like pancakes or scrambled eggs. It can't be too hard, though. Right? Perhaps he should've just tried—

“Thanks.” Harry interrupts his thoughts, giving him a smile before taking one of the bowls in his lap, spooning some. Louis watches as he sticks his tongue out first, before he takes the spoon in his mouth. Just like a tiny kitten. 

“‘S Delicious.” Harry says around a full mouth. 

“Ha, I try.” Louis shrugs, grinning. Secretly he's relieved that Harry isn't mad about the poor excuse of a breakfast. 

Louis eats a bit of his own cereal, not really hungry anymore. His veins prickle, and that alone should be bizarre enough, because, really? His veins? How can you feel your veins like that? But he does. It feels like his blood is boiling, but he isn’t hot or sweaty. 

The cereal tastes weird on his still fuzzy tongue and he places it on the bedside table, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“You done?” Harry furrows his brows, taking in the half full and now soggy breakfast. 

Louis nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He climbs over Harry's legs to get to the free side of the mattress, the bed frame creaking under his feet. Flopping down, he leans his back against the headboard, mirroring Harry’s position and wiggles to get comfortable.

Harry finishes his breakfast in silence and slurps the milk noisily after. 

When he’s done, he licks his milk moustache with his tongue and Louis knows he should not be staring at the pink tip catching the drops but he  _ also _ shouldn’t be sitting on Harry’s bed right now. 

To make it worse, he reaches out, wiping a leftover drop Harry missed with his thumb and sticks it in his mouth, sucking.

Harry blinks at him, eyes narrowing as Louis lets up from his thumb with a wet pop. 

“What?” He asks as Harry smirks. 

“Nothing,” he says too innocently, a dimple carved in his cheek. 

“Okay,” Louis sinks lower on the sheets, so his head is rested on the pillow. 

“Thanks for breakfast,” Harry says, voice serious, “I gotta keep you around, breakfast in bed really is something I could get used to.” 

Louis laughs. “Yeah… no, I’m surprised I’m even awake before eleven. Better prepare for waking me up from the dead.”

Harry faux-gasps, “ _ Nooo _ ,” and pouting like a bloody child, he rolls onto his side, using his hand as pillow under his cheek. Green twinkling eyes peek at Louis.

Louis rolls his own, way too fondly for his liking. They don’t talk for a moment, and Louis is glad, because his brain turns to mush by the effects of the pills.

His eyelids drop and the last thing he feels are fingertips stroking his fringe off his forehead.

 

*    *    *

 

Louis wakes up to fingers running through his hair. He can’t remember falling asleep, thought he’d just close his eyes for a moment to rest them, but apparently he did because it’s not morning anymore and the summer sun is blinding. 

The fingers stop when Harry sees he’s back in the land of the living again, and Louis wishes he would’ve faked sleep for a little bit longer. 

“Do you ever think about running away?” That’s not what he wanted to say, but the words are out and hang between them in the air, like Louis could just catch them and force them back down. He has no idea where this comes from anyway, his mind still sleep-drunk and his tongue has absolutely no goddamn filter. “Just cut off contact with everyone and, like, leave the country?” 

He never ever thought about it himself. 

Harry shakes his head, hair falling in his face. He’s so close the tips tickle Louis' forehead. 

“Never?” Louis blinks, curious now that the question is in the open.

“And you shouldn’t either,” Harry says, a line appearing between his brows, “Are you thinking about it right now?” 

“No, I don’t know why I asked,” Louis mutters, closing his eyes and sighing. 

A moment with tension filled silence passes. 

“Zayn called.” Harry states, changing the topic. “He’s going back to London at the weekend.” 

“Poor Liam.” 

“He knew it was coming, the honeymoon phase is over.” Harry scoffs and Louis opens his eyes again. 

“Why are you so against ‘em?” He wonders out loud. Louis had thought about that before, maybe not the running away part, but Zayn and Liam and how Harry frowns at them every time they exchange whispered words, heads stuck together. It makes no sense because Harry is one of their best friends. He should be happy Zayn has someone as kind as Liam. 

“Don’t mix love with business.” 

“Liam isn’t a dealer.”

Harry chuckles, fingers tugging on the tips of Louis' hair. “Nah, he’s not.” 

“So…why…” Louis trails off, eyes flittering over Harry’s mask of a face. It’s blank, unreadable, Louis doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the topic. 

“If you love someone, you get hurt. They come for the people you love, y’know? Not after you. They beat you up, sure, they stab you, yeah fair enough. But usually they don’t really hurt you directly. They go for the people you love and that hurts more than any punch or knife or whatever.” 

“You’ve experienced that?” Louis asks, concerned. 

Harry shakes his head, “I know as much. I’ve seen it.” 

“Tell me.” 

Harry hesitates, green eyes closed off, but he starts talking. “Uh, there is that guy, yeah? Ed? Yeah, he’s a good lad. He’s a musician. Anyway, he needed some money because street music can only bring in so much…and he was there before I was. I joined him first when I wasn’t with Zayn, he gave me a couch to sleep on.  _ However _ , he had this beautiful girlfriend at the time.” Harry swallows, mask breaking and sadness swooping through. “He loved her and I thought they made a great couple, but then…he— Ed wanted to quit, I don’t know. He just needed some money, and he got more gigs as well.” Harry shrugs, averting his eyes. “He’s a  _ good _ person, yeah? Bit older than you, I think. And his girlfriend would come to every single gig. Would be in the front row singing and dancing and I’d stand beside just watching them fond at each other.” Harry frowns. “She wasn’t the only one who came to his gigs, James did too. He’s one of the older drug dealers, has the best connection to our boss and he’d been watching them too. Anyway, when Ed wanted to quit…they took it out on her.” Harry closes his eyes, hand stroking softly through Louis' hair and he is not sure for whose comfort it is, his or Harry’s. 

“What happened?” Louis rasps, blinking against the tears needling in his eyes.

Harry shrugs again. “Uh I think, they…they…” He clears his throat, green eyes somber when he opens them again, “they made a forced sex worker out of her.” When Louis tries to speak up, Harry continues. “Not on the streets but.” He swallows loudly. “More like their personal toy. It's disgusting.” He spits. “They took her away from Ed and he couldn't, Louis, he couldn't do  _ shit _ . I'm…” Harry wheezes, pressing his hand against his eyes. 

“Oh Harry,” Louis sits up, scooting Harry into his arms. The boy shakes his head, blinking away the tears and gathering himself with a great inhale. 

“It’s not my story. It’s Ed’s story.” He whispers against Louis' collarbone. “I was just there and…Ed came to me, asking where they took her. I had  _ no _ idea, I couldn't help. But I heard things the others...said.” 

Louis makes a sad sound in the back of his throat, unable to find the words. There are no words. How can people do something  _ so _ cruel?  _ Why? _ To prove a point? To get a message across? Sadistic arseholes, all of them belong in the deepest pit of hell.

“Ed is a dealer, still.” Harry mumbles, finally leaning against Louis completely and letting him coddle him. “He's still doing music, too. It's not the same anymore though.” 

“That’s why you don’t like Liam and Zayn together?” 

“Isn't that reason enough?” Harry mutters, “I love both of them so much, I don’t want them to get hurt too.” 

Louis frowns. “But Harry, if your theory is true, yeah? You just said yourself, you love your friends. Does that mean you have to go through life alone so no one gets hurt? Don’t you think you are way stronger when you have someone by your side?”

“They won’t get hurt because of me.” Harry confesses with a small voice.

How Harry knows that Louis has no clue, and even though his voice is small and thin in the silent bedroom, it’s firm too. Like he is certain they won’t go after his friends and Louis thinks that’s a bit foolish. It’s a good thing as well, because otherwise Harry would just push everyone away and be all alone in this messy situation. Louis is glad he doesn’t do that, at least.  

Louis pushes the thought into the back of his mind, and wonders what it means for him and Harry.

“Ed is in Manchester?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. 

“I wanna meet the lad.” Louis states, heart aching for Ed. “When’s his gig?” 

“Uh…dunno, gotta check with him.” Harry untangles himself from the awkward angled hug. “His gigs grew bigger since I joined, we always sell at his concerts. It’s just him and his guitar but people love it.” 

“That’s great,” Louis nods, repressing the urge to look at Harry's paintings. “A true talent then?” 

“The  _ best _ ,” Harry grins, sadness forgotten for a moment and Louis is quick to form a smile too. “Are  _ you _ feeling better?”

“What?” Louis crosses his arms, confused. “Of course, I’m good.” 

“Just asking because you were shivering in your sleep, that’s all.” 

Louis shrugs, not meeting Harry’s gaze. “I’m fine.” He says, at least, it’s true. The weird twisting in his stomach has disappeared and his head has stopped pounding. His tongue finally feels normal, too. He catches it between his teeth. “It was the early hour of the day.” 

“Sure,” Harry drawls, blinking unimpressed, “Whatever. You good now, yeah?” 

Louis nods curtly, and Harry sighs, dropping the act of being uncaring. However, he doesn't press further and with a last worried glance given Louis’ way, he says, “We should get going anyway, I already got some messages asking for weed.” Harry rolls his eyes, going for lighthearted after the heavy conversation. A smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. Louis returns it, but his face falls when Harry turns his back to him. 

Louis watches Harry climb out of bed and into the bathroom. When the door closes, Louis lets his body sink lower on the bed, pulling the covers over his head to stifle his helpless groan.

 

*    *   * 

 

It’s the weekend and they’re all together. Zayn and Liam are snuggled on the couch in their own little love bubble. Lara and Niall are sat on the floor, throwing pizza crusts at each other’s heads, laughing when Niall gets a piece in his eye, letting out a huff before he tackles Lara, who shrieks and tries to get away from Niall’s tickling fingers. 

Louis smiles at them in amusement but when Lara catches his eye, he looks away. He still doesn’t know how to act around Lara after their talk. He hasn’t seen her since, and Louis isn’t sure who’s avoided who. According to Harry, Lara felt bad and apologised to Harry a day later. Louis isn’t Harry though and everytime their eyes meet, her smile falters a bit and that’s answer enough. 

Louis sits cross-legged next to the sofa, rolling the sweating beer bottle between his palms. It’s Zayn’s goodbye party, him and Liam arrived a couple of hours ago, their eyes red rimmed and their voices raw. Louis had no words to smooth out the sadness then, all his jokes fell flat and he kept his mouth shut after no one even cracked a smile, (besides Niall, who gave a short-lived laugh). 

It’s nothing personal, Louis understand and accepts, but still. 

The only sunshine today is Niall, he keeps them all away from the dark thoughts that hang between them. Where Louis failed to lighten the mood, Niall at least got rid of the tension. Louis doesn’t know how he does it. Perhaps, it’s simply his beaming personality. Louis thinks all of them could use a piece of that radiant warmth. 

Louis looks away from Lara and Niall as he feels another body sitting next to him and by the familiar cologne, he can assume it can only be Harry. Also, he could tell it’s Harry by the way the boy breaths and sits just a bit too close. 

“Y’alright?” Harry whispers in his ear. 

“M’good,” Louis whispers right back.

Harry nods and takes the beer from Louis' hand, slurping down the rest. 

Louis watches Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and his jaw sets when he places the bottle on the floor. His large hand squeezes Louis' thigh and he welcomes the warmth of it as it seeps through the fabric of his trousers. 

Louis would enjoy it more if Lara wasn’t watching them like a hawk. 

The moment they make eye contact for the third time today (yes, because they avoided it the three hours before and all the boys can tell something is off), her glance flits to Harry’s hand, still a constant weight on Louis' body, then she raises an eyebrow and stands up. 

“Gonna have a smoke. Louis, you coming?” It’s not really a question and Louis would like to put it all behind him, so they can stop being awkward and tense with each other. He gets up, feeling Harry’s eyes on the back of his head as Lara leads the way outside. Closing the glass door behind them and lighting a fag, her brown eyes flicker over his face. 

He lights up his own cig, taking a deep drag because god knows he’ll need it. 

“You gonna be an arse today, too?” Louis asks before she gets the chance to speak a single word. “Because I’m not in the mood. Zayn is leaving and I'd rather not fight.” 

Her shoulders hunch. “I’m sorry.” 

He just blinks at her unimpressed, the smoke swirling in the wind, clouding her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have said any of that the other day.” 

“That’s right.” Louis nods. “You shouldn’t just assume shit about me.” 

“Well, yeah…” Lara shrugs, “I…” 

“Harry and I had sex.” He interrupts. 

“I know, Harry told me.” 

Not letting that get to his head, because apparently it is important enough to be mentioned to one of Harry’s closest friends, Louis inhales. 

“And I still stand by what I said.” 

“What?” Louis breathes, accidentally blowing smoke straight into Lara’s face. 

“I like you Louis, you’d be good for Harry.” Her voice gets carried away by the wind, the words barely making it to Louis' ears. “I’m just scared for the both of you. I don’t like that Harry is dealing and I don’t like that you just jumped into it as if it's  _ nothing _ . I can't believe you. This is serious, you guys don’t understand.” 

“No, —  _ you _ don’t understand, Lara. Because Harry is the one who’s dealing, not you. How can you talk about something you know nothing about?” Louis knows it's no fun business from what he saw, experienced, lived and from what Harry told him, he shouldn't belittle Lara like that. However he’s mad and has the urge to defend himself and his stupid decisions. 

“And I don’t want to know more about it, I keep my distance from this shit.” Her blown out pupils tell a different story but he bites his tongue, nodding for her to go on. “But I’m not stupid or naive. I’d know it’s dangerous.” Lara smiles sadly, “Maybe you can change his mind.” 

Uh. 

“About what?” 

“Dealing,  _ duh _ …” Rolling her eyes at him, she throws the burnt cigarette away. “He never listened to me, I get that he wants to keep the house and all but…” 

“He deals to keep the house?” Louis blurts out, perplexed. “Why?” 

“Family home. It’s his grandpa's.” Lara informs him with an awkward shrug. “His family moved here when his grandpa died.” 

“Oh?” Louis lifts his brows, “So you know his sister?” 

Lara averts her eyes to the ground, “No. She went to University pretty soon after they moved in.” She twists her mouth south, “I think I saw her only once in passing.” 

“What about his dad?” 

“Harry never told me what happened to his dad.” 

“Hmmpf, the kid never opens up, huh?” Louis muses. How bad can it be? How tragic of a family can the Styles be that Harry feels the need to build up walls of steel around his past. Harry is the most secretive person Louis knows. 

Lara shakes her head, her somber expression matching his mood. She takes his cigarette, taking the last drag before throwing it from her, too. 

They don't say anything for a moment. Maybe neither of them know what to say but there is a deep understanding - a bond - between them, Harry is the rope that ties them together. Their main concern. 

Looking at Lara, Louis thinks she might be Harry's best friend, but is kept out of the personal stuff just as much. Louis wonders if Harry opened up to him more than Lara, recalling their last more serious conversation...it could be. 

“Have you been home lately?” Lara asks as they go back inside. “I didn’t get a chance to catch up with Lottie.” 

Louis stops, frowning at Lara. “She works too much.” He settles on saying, not answering her question. 

Lara nods in agreement before they get back to the chatter of the others. 

Harry locks his gaze with Louis immediately, silently asking if Louis is all right. When Louis nods, Harry flashes a relieved smile. 

Before Louis joins Harry back on the floor, he makes a beeline for the kitchen, just for a few minutes, then he'll rejoin the bunch. He needs some time to breathe and collect his thoughts. 

Louis has never thought about Harry’s dad, never cared to ask why he only talked about his Mum. He also never talks about his sister. 

Louis doesn’t even know her  _ name _ .

Has this kid got any sort of family left? They can’t have all just left, right? So, what  _ happened? _

His mind is fuzzy from the alcohol and the pills he chucked down before the lads and Lara arrived.  His throat feels as dry as a desert. Louis fixes himself a glass of water, turning to the little kitchen window whilst swallowing it down in one go, before filling it up again, throat still like sandpaper. 

It’s started to rain again. Summer is almost over anyway and Louis is looking forward to all the leaves colouring the pavements in no time. He likes autumn the best, with all its warm beauty.  

Two arms wrap around his middle, a nose pressed in his neck, breathing in and exhaling. Louis lets himself be pulled towards the broad chest. “Are you okay?” Harry mumbles against his exposed skin, kissing the spot. Louis shivers. 

“I’m peachy.” He says. 

“Why don’t I believe that?” 

Another thing that happened this week is that Harry has got to know Louis so well, he can tell when something is off. Yesterday, when they were coming home from another drug deal, Louis had gone off to have shower, using it as an excuse to go to the bathroom and get some more pills down his throat, without Harry knowing too much. But Harry knew right away that something was different when Louis went downstairs, joining Harry on the sofa. Harry didn’t say anything, just placed Louis' head in his lap like he’s done before and stroked his fingers through the damp hair. 

“What’s your sister’s name?” 

He feels Harry stiffen against him, but before he can pull his arms away, Louis places his hands over Harry’s, holding him in place. 

It should be a simple question. Louis lights up when people ask about his sister, he could rant forever about her and how much he adores Lottie. 

“Uh…” Harry swallows, “Gemma.” 

Louis smiles, relieved. “It’s a beautiful name.” 

He feels Harry nod. “It is.” 

“She’s at Uni?” Louis prompts softly, getting another nod as answer. “What—”

“Journalism,” Harry cuts Louis off with his reply, taking a step back, clearing his throat. When Louis turns to get a good look at him, there is a proud smile on Harry’s face. “Proper smart, she is.” The  _ ‘unlike I am’  _ goes unsaid and Louis wrinkles his forehead. 

Before he can do anything, Zayn pokes his head in the kitchen. “Guys. I’m leaving.” 

Right. 

“Yeah.” Harry says, pouting. 

Back in the living room, it’s quite the sob fest. Zayn hugs everyone tight, burying his face in Lara’s neck and rubbing her back whilst she whimpers against his chest. 

Niall slaps Zayn’s shoulder before pulling him in, blue eyes glossy with the tears he holds back, not matching the smile on his lips. “Don’t get yourself killed, ya hear me?” 

Liam sniffs at that and Louis sympathizes, giving him a thin, tight smile. 

When it’s Louis' turn, Zayn pulls him away from the others, out in the hallway. His dark eyes search for something Louis can’t pinpoint. 

“I’m not okay with this, no matter what I said on the phone.” Zayn mutters, holding Louis at arm-length by his shoulders. “I wanna beat the shit outta you for doing this, I didn’t think you’d pull through.” 

“Awh, Zaynie, does that mean you  _ care _ ?” Louis tries to joke around the lump in his throat, grinning though he feels like crying. “Don’t you worry, I’m good, Harry’s good and your arse is needed in London. Gotta feed the addicts, eh?” 

Zayn shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes. “Shut up Lou,” he says gently. “Of course I care, that’s why I think it’s stupid what you lot are doing.” 

Louis thinks it’s about more than the drug dealing. 

“But,” Zayn smiles watery, “I’m glad Harry has you by his side now, and I’m so, so relieved that he keeps you out of trouble when I can’t.” 

“Zayn, we literally get in trouble together, I don’t think—”

“I meant the suicide missions I stopped.” Zayn interrupts, quietly but firmly, eyes darting all over Louis’ face.

Louis blinks, taken aback, then frowns deeply, gazing at his feet then back at Zayn, one eye closed. “I never—” 

“ _ Yes _ , Louis, that’s what it was and I hope you’ve got a reason to stay in the land of the living now, yeah?” Zayn’s eyes flicker back to the living room. Louis follows his gaze, seeing Harry watching them, worriedly playing with his lip. 

“I never wanted to kill myself.” Louis gets out before his skin tightens around his throat, trying to strangle him, which is kind of ironic. “I…just…I used to be angry.” 

“You still are.” Zayn knows and Louis is done lying so he just shrugs. 

“Being reckless gets you killed on the streets, being a dealer is anything but fun. Run; take Harry with you, he needs to see that.” 

“What about you?”

Zayn sighs, looking at the ground. “I dunno, you guys still have a chance, I’ve been in this mess since I was fourteen. They’re my family, y’know? I grow up with most of them, s’different.” 

“I see…” Louis licks his lips, “But, mate, what about Liam? He’d be over the moon to get you help, don’t you see a future with—” 

“That’s the problem Louis. Don’t you understand?” 

“No?” 

Zayn sighs again. “They will go after him if I quit. There is no proper future on the cards for me. Liam knows, he’s decided to ignore it but he knows we aren’t forever.” 

Louis remembers the story about Ed and his girlfriend, what happened to her. And then he understands, so he gives a tiny sad nod. He just doesn’t see how it is different for him and Harry. But before he gets a chance to ask, Liam steps into the hallway and Zayn pulls him in a bone-crushing embrace. “Love you.” He mutters. “Don’t be an idiot, don’t do anything stupid.” 

Louis shudders. “Never am.” Both know it’s anything but true, neither choosing to mention it. Instead they hug for another heartfelt minute, swaying in place. It feels more than a  _ ‘see you later’ _ , it feels like a proper goodbye and Louis doesn’t like that one bit. 

“Call me.” Louis says with a throaty voice, as they part. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling. “Text me.” 

Zayn raises a lazy eyebrow, his face back to being its unimpressed usual mask. “You never have your phone with you.” 

Louis shrugs, easily. “Call Harry.” 

Hearing his name, Harry joins them in the hallway, too. 

“What?” He asks. “What about me?” 

Zayn and Louis share a look, then Zayn turns and embraces Harry tightly. 

“I’ll miss you, mate.” Zayn mumbles. “You better watch out for each other.” He says, stepping back and glancing between Harry and Louis. 

Harry nods seriously, before murmuring a ‘ _ see you _ ’ and wrapping Zayn in another hug before Liam leads Zayn out of the door with a sullen smile over his shoulder. 

For the first time since Louis decided to join, regret tugs on his heart, twisting painfully in his guts. 

He doesn’t leave Harry’s side for the rest of the night.

 

*    *    * 

 

Louis is in London, back pressed to a solid house wall, head banging against the facade whilst he blinks through half-lidded eyes, a manic smile forming on his lips. It hurts; he welcomes it. 

“Whatcha gonna do, mate?” He slurs his words. Something runs down his mouth, dripping off of his chin. He assumes it’s blood mixed with spit. “Gonna  _ kill _ me?” He taunts.

The knife pressed to his throat says, yes that’s what's going to happen.

The guy grunts out, “Where’s your money?” And Louis just stares at him in amusement for a long sick-humour filled beat.

“In my fucking wallet you idiot,” Louis widens his grin; his cheeks hurt, “go on, get it.”

“No, you get it,” the guy orders.

“I would, but I can’t.” Louis chuckles breathlessly, his lungs ache with it.

He should’ve expected the spit splashing in his face. It’s disgusting and he wrinkles his nose.

“C’mon let’s  _ go _ , Hawk.” The other one says, so much younger than the guy pressing against Louis’ front. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s not worth being alive.” The guy — Hawk — snaps, “I want the money.”

“I told you, take it.” Louis replies calmly, nearly bored out of his mind by now. He had thought this was going to be more fun.

“I don’t know, I don’t like this.” The younger boy pipes up again. “He’s being weird.”

Louis snorts.

“What’s goin’ on?” Another voice joins, coming closer, echoing from the walls. “Louis?”

_ Goddamnit _ , Louis groans, rolling his eyes up to the ink black sky, noticing that there are no stars.

Hawk lets go of him as Zayn steps towards the group. “What’s going on?”

“He doesn’t want to pay.”

“Not true,” Louis tuts, straightening his jacket, brushing some of the dirt off, “Are you daft? Told ya to take it.”

“Mate,” Zayn warns, stepping in front of Louis, his back turned towards Hawk, who looks ready to kill now by Louis' reply. Zayn pushes Louis against the wall with a sharp finger. “Again?” He hushes so the others won’t hear.

Louis just shrugs nonchalantly, “Whatever.” The fun is ruined for tonight, anyway.

Zayn cradles his chin, observing the bruise on his jaw and bottom lip. Louis flinches from his touch, when Zayn’s brown eyes turn sad.

He gets his wallet out of his pocket throwing a handful of twenty pound notes at Hawk. “It’s been a pleasure.” Louis grins, wiping his mouth as he backtracks out of the alley.

“What should we do with him?” The younger boy asks, but it goes unanswered as Zayn jogs after him.

Louis strides away from them all, keeping his pace though Zayn is hot on his heels.

They walk until they reach the big buzzing nightclub, music coming out of the wide open door, a queue forming in front.

“Lou!” Zayn calls, “C’mon.”

“Fuck off, Zee.”

“No way in hell.”

Louis sighs, walking past all of the waiting party people, getting some rude remarks thrown his way. He ignores them.

“Hi Paul,” Louis grins at the rough looking security guy. “How’s it going?” Zayn catches up with him just when Paul says his own greeting.

“You belong together?” He asks, jerking a nod in Zayn’s direction.

Louis bites his lip but nods when Zayn elbows him in his bruised ribs.

“You owe me.” Paul grunts, giving a meaningful glance Louis’ visible wound.

“Always,” Louis replies with a cheeky grin before slipping inside, Zayn breathing down his neck. Louis can’t lie, it irritates him a little bit that the drug dealer just tags along and gets involved in stuff he really shouldn’t.

“Louis,” Zayn groans before they get through the door which leads to the dance floor. Not a lot of people are mingling around the lounge, there isn’t much to do anyway, only an empty bar as a welcome and the bathrooms. The fun is in the other room, where Louis really, really wants to be.

“What?” Louis asks, not unkindly, just unimpressed.

“Why are you always doing this?” Zayn frowns deeply.

“Doing what? Partying?” Louis quirks an eyebrow, ignoring the pain on his jaw. “I always party.” Both of them know that’s not what Zayn meant. However, Louis wants to get rid of the spit on his face and the blood in his mouth, so he makes a detour to the bathroom, Zayn following like some lost puppy and watching him splash water in his face.

“You gotta stop.”

“I’m too young to stay home.”

“You gotta stop getting the shit beaten out of you.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that those guys are aggressive against their buyers.” Louis says, getting some paper towels to dry himself. He spits blood in the sink. “I told them to take the money.” He says, watching the blood make its way down the white shiny washbasin.

“Louis, Louis, Louis! Please wake up.”

Louis can’t remember Zayn saying that. He frowns.

“Louis. Lou, c’mon, love  _ wake up _ .”

No, no, no this is wrong, Louis thinks, watching Zayn fade out from behind him.

“Lou.”

Who is saying that? Louis watches himself blink in the mirror.

“What the fuck?” He says out loud, fucking drugs,  _ seriously _ . Maybe those guys brained him after all, Louis muses, the back of his head still pounding violently.

The loo blurs in front of his eyes and then he blinks against a blank ceiling.

Maybe he fainted, he thinks closing his eyes with a groan. Fuck drugs, fuck Zayn.

Zayn.

_ Oh _ , ripping his lids open, the face he’s looking at is nothing like Zayn’s face.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Harry groans, holding Louis close to his chest, kissing the top of his sweaty crown of hair.

Louis tenses, untangling himself from Harry because there is not enough air in the bedroom and Louis' mind is still in London…where Zayn is…probably dealing next to Hawk.

His heart pounds in his ears as he scrambles off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, voice cracking at the end, maybe from sleep or the hurt that’s radiating off of him at Louis' reaction.

“Going…uh — for a…walk.” Louis stammers out, phantom pain aching along his jaw.

“It’s the middle of the night.” Harry frowns, watching Louis pull his jeans up his legs.

“Perfect time for a walk, don’t you think?” Louis laughs breathlessly, the urge to run getting stronger now, coaxing him to slip on a shirt and his dirty vans in record time.

“ _ Louis _ .”

“Yeah, nice weather, innit?” Louis says, already crossing the room.

“Louis!”

He shakes his head, hearing Zayn calling out to him, trying to get him to stop and talk, cornering him in the loo at that club.

_ Air _ , Louis needs  _ air _ .

“Go to bed, Harry.” He presses with a thin but oddly firm voice, not looking back at the boy still frozen on the bed, not wanting to change his mind, which he knew he’d do the moment he looked into the green of Harry’s eyes.

He is out of the door in no time, striding down the street with hunched shoulders and white dots forming before his eyes. There is no oxygen outside either, Louis notices, he can’t breathe. His lungs refuse the air he’s trying to inhale.

Louis buries his hands inside the pockets of his denim jacket that he’d thrown on while passing through the hallway, his fingers curling around the pack of coke that Luke couldn’t afford.

He still hasn’t given it back to Harry, always forgot it was there.

Until, well,  _ now _ .

His legs start to jog on their own accord, bringing him further from the damn house he left Harry in.

He passes the closed diner, passes parked cars on the pavement and houses with the curtains drawn shut and the blinds pulled down. No lights are on and everyone is sleeping.

It’s fucking freezing, the wind blowing his fringe off his forehead. He bows his head to protect his burning eyes.

He only stops when he sees a church. He has no idea how he got here but it kind of fits, so he brings his glance up the building. Taking it all in, he notices it’s creepy at night time, he feels like he’s just waiting for some spirit to attack him and drag him into the House of God.

His parents never cared for religion, so he didn’t either.

He walks up the few steps, not daring to open the massive wing doors, not daring to touch.

Sitting down on the last step, he gets the coke out, opening the pack, dipping his finger in, and without thinking he sticks it into his mouth, spreading it on his teeth and tongue before he swallows. He smacks his lips in disgust at the bitter taste.

His throat goes dry nearly instantly, the effects hitting him all at once. His already speeding heart races, flutters, tries to work against the coke.

Feeling his veins boil with energy, he looks up at the black sky.

The thing is, people always say drugs are Satan’s candies. It’s wrong, Louis found out, because gazing at the endless universe, he feels so much closer to heaven on drugs than he ever did to hell.

He doesn’t hear the angels sing, he doesn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears mixed with the thundering of his heart and his legs start to jiggle, craving to run, to burn off the energy.

He laughs, because he is happy, he is in  _ heaven _ .

Not in London, he’s not looking in the dark eyes of Hawk or the warm eyes of Zayn.

He looks right into the place where the angels live and he feels so close to them, can hear them calling his name.

Thinking back at the night he’d spent in jail, he feels nothing, no regret, no guilt or anger — whatsoever.

It wasn’t even  _ his _ damn fault, he was just there.

They were drunk driving, because they all are idiots and Nick wanted to save the money for a cab. Actually it was Louis who ran out of money and he couldn’t remember the pin to his debit card because he was high out of his mind. So yeah, they stole a car…no they stole the keys from some guy first…then they stole his shitty car, driving around London, honking at random people and waking the city with their laughter.

Louis was in the front seat, letting his heated face cool in the night air when they drove over the speed limit. They were the kings of the world, The Kings of London, their city, their kingdom.

Eleanor giggling from the backseat ruffling through Louis' hair and sticking a wet finger in his ear, trying to make him to turn around and pay attention to whatever story she was in the middle of telling.

They bypassed millions of cars, Nick being a reckless driver and all.

And because Nick is not only reckless but also stupid, he crashed the bloody car.

All of them were sent to jail.

And here Louis is, sitting on the stairs of a church, high on coke in the middle of nowhere. Absolutely not his kingdom and his people aren't around to keep him entertained, distracted from the void inside. And he minds, it bothers him being stuck in a shitty  _ town _ .

He misses being reckless and stupid and he misses being pressed against walls.

He misses the pain.

Abruptly he stands up, running down the stairs, along the pavement until he’s entirely lost.

He feels lost, he is lost.

Macclesfield is a fucking  _ maze _ . Whilst he walked the streets of London with confidence, he is out of place in this town. It’s not his home, and it never will be.

Bile rises up his throat and he spits, his chest heaving. His legs give in and he falls to the ground, curling in on himself like the pathetic piece of shit he is.

A whimper escapes his lips and his head throbs.

Louis had taken the painkillers before bed, couldn’t fall asleep although Harry was a steady weight pressed to his body.

He never had a bad reaction to cocaine, always had a good fucking time consuming it. It cannot be the pills, they are not  _ that _ strong. At least Louis thinks they’re not. Reality looks a bit different, him lying on the pavement unable to get up and all.

He welcomes the wave of pain that rolls down his spine.

Zayn shouldn’t have helped him, he didn’t deserve it.

Louis is a fucking brat, that’s what he’s always been. His teachers told him as much. Though he was a good student by nature, he used to be loud and annoying, always talking during class, never paying any attention.

He should’ve listened more when his classmates talked about their dreams for the future, their goals. Maybe then he would’ve realised sooner that the company wasn’t what he truly wanted and he would have had a chance to get it right with his parents.

Like Lottie did.

The pain in his stomach lets up, his throat is burning just like his eyes but he greets it, it’s almost as good as a punch to his jaw.

Waiting another second to see if the pain comes back (it doesn’t), he gathers all his willpower and gets to his feet, a tad wobbly. Glancing down at his own spit, he wrinkles his nose, rubbing his eyes and then he drags himself away from it, the evidence of his breakdown.

A single car passes him, but he keeps his eyes downcast.

He has no idea what time it is or how long he’s been outside, only accompanied by his blurry memories and feelings of pain and regret.

The car makes a U-Turn, headlights blinding him. He uses his hand to shield his eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness in the dark. When the car comes to a halt, Louis' heart starts racing with cold fear.

Panic leaves him frozen in place, only when the door swings open he shakes himself out of it and without thinking Louis spins around, running in the other direction as fast as his heavy feet are able to carry him. His breath is coming brokenly from his lips as his soles loudly hit the pavement.  

He stumbles, because of course, but he keeps running, hearing boots following him, catching up too fast. There aren't any hiding spots, there are cars neatly parked and houses dark but nowhere he could slip in between, no alley he could disappear into…that might be the first time. Adrenaline pumps in his veins, he'll get beaten up, they're after him. They found him. There is no way out.

“Louis!” The voice wheezes behind him. “Louis,  _ fuck _ …”

It’s like someone pressed the fat red button on the treadmill that stops the machine immediately. Louis' legs stop working, he stops like there is some rope that’s holding him back and due to his sudden stop, which the other person had not expected, the body collapses into Louis' back, sending them both to the ground.

Louis groans under Harry’s weight, getting the little bit of air that was left in his lungs right knocked out of him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, cheek smashed against the unforgiving street. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to muster the energy to wiggle out from underneath the boy, who is so much taller and a dead weight on him.

“Shit,” Harry breathes in Louis' ear, before sitting back on his calves, leaving just enough room for Louis to turn onto his back.

The moment Louis looks up in the pale face of the person he left in the house, his emotions change from disappointment at being found, to anger, to relief that he’s been found and then to something that feels like sadness. He doesn’t want to feel that, gazing at the angel with the many sinful tattoos and curls looking like a halo. He wants to feel something other than the emptiness that sinks in his stomach.

“Punch me.” Louis dares, lifting his chin so Harry has a good punching point.

“What?” Harry fumbles, still out of breath, still too beautiful.

“Fucking punch me.” He says again, shutting his eyes so tight, white little dots appear.

It’s absolutely silent, the only sound their heavy breathing mixed together.

Instead of a fist making contact with his face, there are gentle fingers on his jaw. Instead of the back of his head hitting a wall, there are lips pressed against his own. It knocks the breath out of him but not from the pain he was expecting. And, instead of spit or blood splashing in his face, there are tears falling onto his skin.

“I could never hurt you, Louis.” Harry mumbles against his mouth as they part, and Louis — Louis fucking  _ breaks _ .

Wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle like a lifeline, he sobs into Harry’s chest, listening to the soothing sounds that leave Harry’s lips.

 

*    *    *

 

Louis only calms down when he breathes in the familiar smell of cold smoke and Harry’s faded cologne in the bread van with the sunken leather seats and the broken AC. 

Harry cuddles him to his chest, still. Though it’s a tight fit with Louis on Harry’s lap, squeezed in between Harry and the steering wheel, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

Louis noses at Harry’s neck, whimpering one last time before sitting back and looking into the evergreen of Harry’s so, so gentle and concerned eyes. He can also see the questions forming in the pretty head of his but Louis doesn’t have any answers, so he makes his decision in the span of a couple of seconds, already seeing Harry inhaling deeply for the storm of  _ ‘What is wrong with you? Why did you do that? What is wrong with you?’ _ Louis has no idea.

“Harry, I want you to fuck me.” Louis states monotonously. 

A moment passes where no one moves, talks, or breathes. Then Harry furrows his brows and Louis mirrors him, because his request is clear, there is no need for the confusion clouding Harry’s face. 

Careful fingers reach out to wipe away the leftovers from the breakdown on Louis' cheekbones and he leans into the touch, eyelashes fluttering. 

“M’not going to fuck you,” Harry mutters. 

“Why not?” Louis' bottom lip wobbles pathetically. 

Harry takes in his face for a long time, eyes flittering over every inch, as if he’s seeing it for the first time and wants to memorise it in case it’ll be the last time. Louis doesn’t like the expression on Harry's, like he’s sitting in front of a puzzle and the final piece is missing. Strong eyebrows pull together. 

“Louis,” he laughs quietly, as if he can’t believe what he’s just heard. “I’m not going to have sex with you after you’ve had a mental breakdown on the streets.” 

Louis shakes his head. “That was no mental breakdown,” Louis defends himself. “I just…” 

“Had a breakdown,” Harry finishes for him, smiling sadly. “I don’t understand, and we have to talk about it.” 

Louis’ eyebrows jump to the sky. “Oh? Now we have to talk? When it’s about me and not you, yeah? What the hell. There is nothing to  _ talk _ about.” 

Hurt flashes across Harry’s face before he schools his expression into something like a poker face. “There is nothing to talk about?” He asks tonelessly, though it’s hard for Louis to hear due to the fact they are so close he can feel the warmth radiating off Harry’s body. “There is a lot to talk about. You had a nightmare, you ran away from me and then I found you, and you ran away  _ again _ . Then you told me to  _ punch _ you and then you  _ cried _ like someone died. Please don’t say there isn’t anything to talk about because — there is a  _ lot _ .” 

Normally Louis would scoff and turn, get out of the car and run again, but there is something about Harry that makes Louis pause, swallowing the remarks back down his throat, clearing it instead and avoiding Harry’s intense stare. 

It’s not enough to get Louis to talk though, so he shrugs. “Get me home first.” 

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not bringing you back to Lottie in the middle of the night, looking like this.” 

Louis blinks in confusion, then — “Oh, uh…no I — I meant…your house?” 

And there is that weird soft look on Harry’s features again as he takes in the words. 

“Oh,” His lips form an O, then a smile breaks it. This time, it’s not sad like earlier but happy in a way that makes Louis' chest flutter. “Yeah…yeah. Of course.” Harry says, biting down on his smile, like he wants it to stop growing bigger. 

Louis is exhausted, so he doesn’t think twice before pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek and then he climbs off his lap, over the armrest onto the passenger seat, folding in on himself, forehead pressed against his knees, building a barrier between him and the outside world.

The motor comes to life and then there is a hand rubbing on his underarm for the rest of the drive to the house, which shouldn’t sound so much like home and safety to him…but then, Harry lives there and Harry has become something like safety and home to him. 

He tries very hard not to think about what that means. 

His heart knows though, and it lets him know in return, with each rapid beat. 

 

*     *    * 

 

Harry had refused to have sex with Louis in the state that he is in. However, before Louis could get too pouty and feel even more rejected, Harry offered with the softest of all voices to wash the dirt off of Louis' shaking body. He even undressed Louis with tender hands and soaked a fluffy face cloth, covering it in one of his best smelling soaps.

And like that, the cold shock of rejection was forgotten and replaced by something that made his heart skip a beat every time Harry touched him. 

He rubs the face cloth over Louis' backside in gentle circles, whilst the water around them patters down their bodies. At some point, he let the cloth fall down and massaged the stiffness out of Louis' shoulders, slowly running the tip of his fingers down Louis' spine. Louis’ first thought was that it should be weird, to let someone else wash you…like  _ this _ . Too intimate and all, but Harry isn’t just anyone, he’s Harry, and that makes it more than okay. Louis lets his barriers down a little bit, facing the wall and letting his head roll on his chest, when Harry massages his neck with four delicate but strong fingers. 

There is nothing left from his nightmare, panic attack, or the drugs in his bloodstream. They wore off a while ago, but what has stayed is the warm pulsing feeling in Louis' stomach and the fluttering of a thousand wings in Louis' chest. 

Louis tries to repress a groan and presses his eyes shut when Harry finds another sore muscle.

His hair is washed by careful fingertips, scratching at his scalp and massaging the shampoo in the short length of his strands. 

Louis has never had anyone wash him in the past and he feels oddly cared for. 

Harry hums low in his throat as he rinses the rest of the shampoo out of Louis' hair, planting a kiss on the top of Louis' shoulder then turning him around. They lock gazes the second they are face to face and Harry smiles softly down at Louis as he brushes through Louis' damp fringe, making the strands stick up like the horn of a unicorn. 

Louis snorts, Harry's grin widens. 

Smiling back, he steps closer to Harry’s also very, very naked body and wraps an arm around his middle, pressing his cheek to Harry’s broad chest. It takes a moment before Harry slings his arms around Louis too. They stand like that for a couple of long, beautiful and warm minutes. The scent of vanilla is still trapped in their lungs and the water a soothing noise lulling them in. It feels like rain that will never end, rain that is warm and soft and…

Louis inhales. “Thank you.” He mumbles, uncertain if Harry can pick it up over the rushing surrounding them. 

Somehow, Harry is able to understand, and he lets him know with a kiss to the top of Louis' head. Harry hums, kissing the same spot again, before untangling their arms and taking a step back. 

He’s the first to get out of the shower, stepping over the edge of the bathtub and getting a blue towel out of the drawer next to the door, and, well, Louis should be a tiniest bit embarrassed when Harry dries him and wraps the fabric around Louis' shoulders. Harry shouldn’t baby Louis like that, Louis is a grown man, older than Harry himself, and yet, after the day they had, Louis can’t bring himself to step out of Harry’s arms and dry his body himself. 

Perhaps this feels weird  _ because _ Louis has never done this with another man before, touching without the intention of sexual activity, just caring for each other, without the promise of sex afterwards. 

However, he can see the exhaustion he feels on Harry’s face and he is certain both of them wouldn’t get it up anyway. It’s just before sunrise and they only slept for a handful of hours, it’s a good enough excuse to crawl in bed next to Harry, pulling him close without any sexual longing. 

Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, and even after a while of just laying there, he can tell by the little uneven puffs of air tickling the top of his head that Harry is still awake as well. 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, just enjoying the soft touch of fingers running up and down his spine, circling the knots of it and drawing little meaningless patterns on his skin. 

The silence stretches so long that the sun makes an appearance, the first rays shining through the window, setting the room in a soft orange glowing light. 

Louis blinks his bleary eyes, feeling sleep knocking on his door, asking if he’s finally ready to be drawn into the black void. And he wants to say, yes, yes he is ready, he is dead tired and exhausted and he feels cozy and safe in the cloud-bed with Harry, but then the boy speaks up and Louis doesn’t answer the door to the world of dreams. 

“Are you ready to talk?” 

“Are you?” Louis returns the question, not missing a beat. 

“Shoot.” 

Blinking his heavy lids, Louis looks up as Harry tilts his chin down. They lock eyes and Harry raises a slow almost daring eyebrow. 

Harry knows and he's dodging the topic on purpose. However, Louis isn't too hung up on that fact. Rather he didn't expect Harry to open up - it’s unexpected and Louis ponders over the millions of questions he had pushed to the far end of his brain, never really thinking that he’d get the chance to ask any of them. 

Louis tangles their ankles together and kisses Harry’s nipple, because it’s right in front of his nose and he’s too lazy to reach any other part. 

Harry tenses for a second, laying still. 

The obvious question is, ‘Where is your mum?’ but it’s too early for that. He wants Harry to talk, not to bolt on him… _ again _ . 

“Are you still in contact with your sister?” 

Harry inhales deeply. “I am.” He exhales sharply.

Louis nods, well, that’s good, this is a start. 

“When was the last time you saw her?” 

“Uh…this week.” 

Louis bobs his head, perplexed. “Really? When?” He was with Harry almost all week, he can’t remember him meeting up with anyone but the stoners…and well the lads and Lara. 

“Yeah…uh. Tuesday?” 

Louis thinks back to that day, memories forming in front of his eyes of getting plastered with Lara, yelling out their frustration about love and how miserable both of them were for their own reasons. The sulk fest happened, because Louis was bored and lonely - Harry wasn’t there on Tuesday, he had run off to Manchester, he recalls. Huh. 

“ _ Oh _ , okay,” and then Louis mulls the words over, and - “Wait…is that the reason you’re in  _ Manchester _ all the time? Does your sister study in Manchester?” 

Harry stiffens, letting out a huff, then a groan. “Y-yeah,” He says hesitantly. 

Louis frowns, thinking there is more to it. Why would Harry make a huge secret out of it? Sure, he deals in the city, but Louis already knows that. Also, there is no way he could run into Gemma, there is no need to worry about him letting something slip. So. What is it then? 

“That’s grand, H.” He mumbles against warm skin, not saying out loud the confusion that is itching at the walls of his throat and tingles in his neck. 

“Yeah, I love her.” He pauses, then — “I want you to meet her.” 

It’s so easily said, is the thing. Meeting Harry’s sister he didn't know about until this week, is turning his brain to mush and his heart rate goes up. This is a  _ big _ fucking deal. Louis doesn't understand. 

Maybe he heard wrong, he’s sleepy after all. To check, that his brain doesn't just hears what his heart wants, Louis asks slowly, “Are you sure, you want me to meet your  _ sister _ ?”

Harry nods. “I think you’d get along great.” 

The corner of Louis' mouth twitches, and he bites off a smile, trying to get his stomach to stop fluttering at the thought of Harry wanting him to meet Gemma. 

“Wow.” He says flatly, licking his lips. “Finding out your sister’s name and earning the trust to meet her? All, basically, in one day?” 

“Well…” Harry shifts awkwardly, “uh.”

“It’s everything or nothing with you, eh?” He says playfully, wanting to keep the mood light.

Harry chuckles his exhale, rubbing below his nose. “Kinda. Dunno.”

“You know,” Louis begins, carefully, “if you would’ve told me you were meeting your sister, I’d have understood.” Louis scratches his forehead. “The first time you took me to Manchester, I thought you ditched me for no other reason than to get rid of me, and then every other time I thought you lied and you had a boyfriend there or summat and just didn't want to tell me.” 

Harry doesn’t answer. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Gemma all this time?” Louis presses. 

Harry gives a half-shrug and swallows his words down. Louis holds his breath as Harry opens his mouth and closes it. When Louis looks up there is that weird blank mask covering the real emotions on his face and Louis kind of feels like he’s overstepped an invisible line, with a simple question. 

Then he remembers everyone has a different view of simple questions, people with eating disorders tense when they are being asked about when the last time was they had eaten. Some people tense when they are asked how they are, because they are sad but can’t just say so, instead they lie and say they are fine. Simple questions for Louis might not be simple questions for Harry, so he sighs, kissing Harry’s naked skin and mumbles, “you don’t have to tell me.” 

Harry relaxes against the mattress. 

“My turn to ask.” He announces with a throaty voice. “D’you have nightmares often?” 

“Not anymore,” Louis answers honestly, “I think Zayn leaving triggered me, dunno.” 

“What did you dream about?” 

Louis hums, he can’t quite remember anymore, it’s all a bit blurry. “Uh, my time back in London, I reckon.” That, he knows.

“You had a nightmare about partying?” There is amusement in Harry’s voice and, it hurts, yeah? Because everyone has the same view of Louis, even here in Macclesfield, and Louis thought that Harry knew him better than that. But yet…

“Uh, yeah…no just…forget it.” 

Harry’s arms tighten around Louis when he tries to pull out of their tangled mess. “No, I — fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Lou, I’m sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Louis mutters, “nothing important anyway.” 

“Everything is important when it comes to you.” Again, the words are so easily said that Louis holds his breath, blinking. 

“It was just a nightmare,” he says nonetheless, “I told you I had a bad phase.” 

“That phase isn’t over, is it?” Harry says it like a question when his firm tone tells Louis it’s more of a statement. 

Louis could lie, tell him he left his old self in London, somewhere between snogging a random guy pinned to a wall and doing lines of coke in the bathroom. Harry saw Louis doing cocaine in the few past weeks, he saw Louis high, on weed, plastered on the floor. So, Louis knows Harry wouldn’t buy into the lie, maybe he would let it slip, but Louis has seen the disappointed look in Harry’s eyes too many times when he thought Louis wasn’t looking.

Louis wants to speak the truth, but then Harry’s voice fills the room and Louis freezes in his arms. 

“I know you take pills from my bathroom.” 

 

*    *    *

 

When Louis wakes up in the afternoon, he is alone. When he goes into the bathroom, opening the cabinet, the bottle of painkillers is gone. He clicks his tongue, annoyed yet not all that surprised. When he splashes his face with too hot water, he thinks he should leave, too. 

Before he can do much more than dry his face, he hears the pats of bare feet in the bedroom and he hurriedly closes the cabinet, then, like in a dramatic movie, the door swings open with too much force and Harry stands in front of him, throwing a little pack at Louis' bare chest with a raised eyebrow and stormy green eyes. In this light, they look like the unruly ocean before a storm. 

The pack falls to his feet, but Louis can’t bring himself to look at it, already knowing what it is. Also, the expression on Harry's face is hair-raising.

“Is this why you’re hanging out with me? Is this why we’re fucking?” Harry asks with a trembling voice. “Because it’s an easy way for you to get drugs for free?” 

Not for one second had Louis ever thought about that, not  _ once _ . 

Louis tries to find his voice, but it's gone. 

“How long have you been stealing from me? Since the beginning? Did you snoop around when the others weren't looking?” When Louis just stares at him like a deer in the headlights. Harry steps closer, puffed out chest, eyes turning from stormy to cold in a second and Louis doesn’t have Harry in front of him anymore, but Drug Dealer Harry, all business. It's enough to get him out of his shock-trance.

“I-I… _ never _ ,” Louis stutters, too stunt, “I…—  _ Harry _ .” His heart gives a violent tug under the intense stare, and he wraps his arms protectively around his own middle. “How can you even say something like that?” 

“I don’t believe you.” He snarls.

“I don’t believe you’re accusing me of being a fucking thief.” Louis grits his teeth, hurt and anger making him hot in the small shittily lighted bathroom. “That I am sleeping with you to-” Louis swallows. He'd  _ never _ . Harry knows this. He  _ has _ to.

“Well, you did it before, didn’t you?” Harry lifts his brows. “I should've known.” 

Ouch.

“I paid Zayn back. And I never slept with any of the dealers in London.” Louis' brows furrow, the thought alone turns his stomach in disgust. “Where is this coming from?” 

“Then, please tell me why I found coke in your bloody jacket?”

“You were going through my stuff?” Louis pipes up. 

“No, I went to hang it up and the fucking coke fell out. And I have eyes, it's open, so don't lie and say you never touched it.” 

“It’s from Luke, I…forgot I still had it until last night.” Louis chews on his lip, he wets it. “ I don’t see your problem, Harry, honestly. You  _ know _ I take drugs, I don’t understand, why are you so worked up about this?” The more the shock wears off, more angers comes to life. Defensively Louis balls his hands to fists at his sides, clenching them and digging his nails in his skin of his palms. 

“You don’t take them for fun,” Harry makes the statement like he knows it all just so well. Louis rolls his eyes. “People take drugs to have a good time.” 

“I do, too.” He huffs, fuming with his fringe.

“Oh do you, Louis?” Harry taunts, stretching his arms like he wants to shake Louis' shoulders. He lets them fall to his flanks and takes a daring step forward. Eyes icy, voice barely above a whisper but just as confident as he continues, “Tell me, did you have a  _ good time _ last night?” 

“Why'd you care?” Louis raises his chin, levelling Harry with a heated glare. 

“Why…do I care?” Harry repeats, unbelieving, he tugs on his own hair with a frustrated huff. “I bloody care about you. I want you to stop blaming yourself for things you can’t change.” 

“You know nothing.” Louis hisses, “I take drugs to have fun, I love the feeling, sue me.” He rolls his eyes, “Don't think too much into it, honestly. You’re  _ overreacting _ .” 

“Liar,” Harry snarls. “You’re a fucking  _ addict _ .” 

It hits hard, the words make Louis choke on nothing and he stumbles back like he’s been burned. They stare at each other for a moment that seems to last the entirety of Louis' life. 

“Don’t be unfair, Harry.” Louis says, chest cold and hands sweaty. “I don’t judge you for selling drugs either.” 

Harry flinches, “S’not the same.” 

“It  _ fucking _ is.” Louis outbursts, his voice echoing in the little bathroom, and when Harry opens his mouth to fire back, Louis raises a hand to shut him up. “And don’t tell me it’s because you need the  _ fucking _ money.” Louis can't hear that excuse any longer. 

Harry’s jaw sets and twitches, he balls his hands to tight fists at his sides. 

“Everybody needs money, Harry, that's the truth. My parents are married to their jobs because they love money more than their family.” Louis takes a shaky inhale. “You don’t have to do it the illegal way and I know you’re smart enough to attend Uni, so don’t tell me your damn grades were too damn low.” 

Blue stormy eyes meet green fiery ones, then there is some shift, like someone blew out a candle and they go a shade darker. Harry steps back, shoulders hunched in defeat.

“University doesn’t bring you money. You have to pay for education.” Harry says finally with the smallest voice Louis' ever heard him speak with. It breaks his heart, and maybe the fire in his own eyes is burnt out, too. Louis can’t fight someone who’s on the verge of tears. 

“Gemma is doing it, so why can’t you?” Louis breathes, overstepping once again, because every question he asks Harry is overstepping boundaries, so it's whatever. They're already fighting. Louis is done with games and dodging topics left and right,  _ always _ tiptoeing. 

“Scholarship,” Harry shrugs, avoiding Louis' eyes. “She has a part time job at some kiosk.” 

“So it’s not Gemma you need the money for.” Louis states, Harry shakes his head. “What is it then? The house? You can sell the house and take the money, build something for your own future.” 

Harry laughs coldly. “It’s not that easy.” 

“‘Course not,” Louis chuckles, thinking it sounds so, so bloody cliché. “S’never easy. Everybody struggles, Harry. You're not alone.” 

“I know,” Harry says, “I’m not selling the house. It’s my grandpa’s.” 

“So I heard.” Louis nods slowly. “But I don’t think your grandpa would want you to sell drugs just to keep his house.” 

Harry chuckles again, this time it’s wet and Louis' heart stops altogether.

“C’mon Louis.” He says, turning. 

“Where to?” 

Harry glances over his shoulder, already pulling on his shoes. “You wanna know why I need the money? You wanna know why I can’t sell the damn house? Let’s go.” 

“I’m — uh, are…you sure?” Louis asks, hearing Harry sniffle loudly. “You don't have to.” 

Not like... _ this _ . 

“I really, really do.” Harry bristles. “If  I want whatever is going on between us to last, I gotta show you, don’t I?” 

Blinking, Louis watches Harry throw on a jacket, pocketing his iPhone, leaving his shitty flip-phone on the bedside table, not even giving it a single glance.

“Alright.” Louis nods, pulling on his jeans and slipping into his dusty Vans. 

Harry looks at him carefully. Hope and fear clear in the green of his eyes, none of the storm Louis has witnessed is left. 

Louis swallows. 

This is huge. 

This, whatever  _ this _ is, will change everything, Louis thinks, following Harry to the bread van. 

 

***    *    ***

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! happy mondayyyy, happy reading, enjoy xx

 

 

***   *   ***

 

They’re heading in the direction of Manchester. Louis figured this out the moment Harry drove onto the all too familiar motorway, speeding up and passing cars, leaving them in dust behind.

The low hum of the radio does nothing to calm Louis' vibrating nerves. His leg jiggles as Harry switches back and forth between the left and right lane, hopping cars and driving way past the speed limit. There is unwavering tension in his broad shoulders, and his eyes don’t leave the road in front of them. (Louis is glad about that, because he might be fucked up but doesn’t have the desire to be in another car crash, thank you very much, not today, especially not when Harry is with him in the bloody car). His knuckles turn white with the tight grip Harry is holding onto the steering wheel, like he needs something solid to ground himself.

Harry is usually a good driver. He has quick reflexes, always watching out. However, today he is being reckless and Louis knows it's because of whatever awaits them in Manchester.

Louis’ first guess is that they're meeting up with Gemma. His second guess is that they’re meeting up with some other drug dealers. The third guess is that not only are they meeting up with ‘some’ drug dealer, but the Big Boss. Zayn had called him Satan and looking at how stiffly Harry is sitting in the leather seat, he looks like he’s preparing himself to go down knocking on the door of hell.

Not one of his guesses is something he wants to be part of. He’d love to meet Gemma, of course, but maybe not when his hair resembles a birds nest, strands of it falling into his dark ringed eyes. He’s also wearing the same shit from yesterday and is probably reeking of sweat, dirt, and anxiety.

He tries to brush some of the dust stains off his trousers in the most subtle way - they’re from the fall when Harry knocked the bloody air out of his failing lungs. Distracted with rubbing at a dark spot on the blue fabric, he jumps when a hand settles over his. Fingers tangle with his own and Harry brings their clasped hands to the armrest between them, squeezing slightly.

“Y’alright?” Harry asks, sending him a quick glance before his eyes flicker back to the street.

“Peachy.” Louis nods curtly, stroking his thumb over Harry’s knuckle.

“Listen, I’m sorry about jumping down your throat like that,” Harry mumbles, not looking Louis' way, not seeing him flinch at his choice of words. “It wasn’t my place to tell you any of what I said and assuming the worst.”

“We fight a lot, hmm?” Louis mutters. “I know I’m difficult.”

Harry snorts. “Yeah, you’re the difficult one.”

“You never took me to the movies.” Louis says. He hasn’t thought about that, just remembered it now (also the conversation is leading in a dark direction and Louis already is a nervous wreck, so he’d rather keep it lighthearted).

It works, thank fuck, a smile lingering on the beautiful curve of Harry’s lips and when they lock eyes for a moment, he can see the warmth shining through them. His dimple pops out of its hiding place when Louis squeezes his fingers.

“I promise to take you out.” Harry says, smiling but his tone oddly serious. He looks back at the road, passing another bloody car like they’re in a race. “If you still want me to, after today.”

Louis wants to scream, he wants to take Harry's face between his hands and just make Harry look at him, so he can see how fucking gone Louis is for Harry. If Harry would tell him, _‘Hey, do me a favour, open the door and jump out, will ya?’_ he would open the fucking door and jump to his death with a smile on his face. That’s how fucking gone Louis is, all that's holding him back from snuggling closer or pressing a kiss to Harry’s soft cheek is that he isn’t sure if Harry is on the same page. They’ve never talked about it and if they had, Harry wouldn’t say something like ‘ _if you still want me_ ’. Louis thinks he’d want Harry even when his hair is all grey and his milky skin is carved with wrinkles.

It’s scary because Louis has never let anyone in like that and now Harry holds his heart and all they do is just fight about crap that doesn’t matter. They don’t talk about the important stuff and pretend they’ve already had that talk, but every time one of them wants to do something like hold the other one’s hand, there is a moment of hesitance.

When they lay in bed, it takes ages for one of them to just go for it and pull the other one closer. There’s always a knot of panic in Louis' chest, fear that Harry might flinch or scream what the hell Louis is doing, when he tangles their ankles under the covers.

Neither of them say anything but the panic is mutual, he can feel it in the softness of Harry’s fingertips, the moment of not knowing how the other will react.

Whatever happens today, whatever this Big Thing is that Harry wants to show Louis, he knows he won’t ever not give Harry his heart. It’s too late and Louis would rather burn with Harry than take it all back.

Louis can’t say anything he’s thinking out loud, the image of Harry’s face after he came still behind his eyelids but there is also the cold look that’s branded there from this very afternoon.

So, Louis just shrugs, squeezes Harry’s hand and says, “Looking forward to it.”

For the first time, Louis is glad about the silence that follows his words.

 

***   *   ***

 

When they reach Manchester, Harry lets go of his hand, puts on some sunglasses and rolls down the windows, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

He looks relaxed, with his arm hanging out of the window and sunglasses reflecting the buildings they pass, but Harry’s lip is bitten raw and when he brings his fag to his mouth, his fingers shake slightly and Louis wonders what the hell is going to happen.

Louis doesn’t ask, just sucks on his own cig and flicks the ash out of the window.

They park in front of a hospital. The sight of the building gives Louis anxiety, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing over him. Did anyone get hurt? Is Zayn alright? Fuck, he needs his bloody phone, he should’ve checked up on the lad hours ago. Why are they at a bloody hospital?

“Harry,” Louis says dumbly, his mouth dry like the desert, “did…uh—”

“Nobody is hurt.” Harry answers, seeing him fumble for words.

Louis nods, still glancing out of the window, taking in the parked ambulance and the people in white robes taking a smoking-break.

“Why…” He trails off, catching his tongue between his teeth, chewing nervously.

Harry sighs. “You’ll see.”

With that, Harry gets out of the car, rounding it to open Louis' door as well, whilst Louis still is frozen in his seat.

It takes another couple of seconds before Louis is able to hop out of the van, and he almost startles when Harry slings an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to his side. It takes another moment for Louis to wind an arm around Harry’s waist.

They enter the building. It’s all white walls with abstract paintings, endless looking floors and the smell of medicine hanging thickly in the air. Louis visited Lottie once, when she first moved to Macclesfield, and he couldn’t wait to leave again. It’s not a place Louis could ever work in, so much sadness, pain, and fear vibrating in the building.

Harry leads him to the lifts. He walks like he knows the way, as if he could be blindfolded and still find where he wants to go.

When the lift opens again, they are faced with an identical hallway just like three levels below.

The only difference here is that there are milky glass doors, with signs ‘Closed: clerks and family only’. Louis’ heart is in his throat as they walk up to a glass window, a pretty looking girl with lilac hair sitting behind, chewing on a bubblegum.

“Hey Perrie,” Harry greets, Louis still tucked under his arm. The girl glances up from her magazine, and her blue eyes lighten when she sees Harry.

“Oh, H!” She exclaims, getting out of her chair and then she comes through a door Louis hasn't noticed before. Maybe it's because it's the same colour as the walls. “How are you, darling?” She asks, pulling Harry into an embrace.

Louis steps back, watching them hug and pulls his lower lip between his fingers, twisting it nervously.  

“I’m good, yeah.” Harry mumbles against her bony shoulder, then they part and suddenly the big but gentle blue eyes are on Louis like two spotlights.

“And who is this?” Perrie asks, smiling. “It's definitely not Gemma.”

Louis blushes for no reason, but her gaze is so intense, even his toes curl inwards.

“No,” Harry chuckles awkwardly. “This is Louis. Louis, this is Perrie.”

Louis stretches his hand out for a shake. “Nice to meet you.” But instead of taking his offered hand, he’s being pulled into a hug from the pretty girl, too.

“Yeah, _very_ nice to meet you, Louis.” She grins as they let up and Louis is a bit confused, because her eyes flitter from him to Harry like she’s watching a ping pong match and doesn’t want to miss a second of it. “Harry talks loads about ya.” She says, letting her gum smack.

Harry huffs, rolling his eyes but there is a smile on his lips and Louis blushes deep red because Perrie seems close to Harry, and Louis…just —  it feels kind of special.

“I do not,” Harry protests weakly, and exposes how much he’s lying when he tucks Louis under his arm once more.

Louis is anything but bothered, feeling warm and giddy.

Perrie ruffles Harry’s hair fondly. “Whatever, H.” Then she sobers, chewing on her lip, “Uh, but you know it’s Sunday right?”

“Is it?” Harry asks, arm tensing around Louis. “I…uh. I forgot.”

“No visiting hours on Sunday afternoon, you should know that.” She tattles, arching a brow, “Supper is in an hour, you guys have to be gone by then.”

Harry sighs in relief, squeezing Louis' shoulder. “Thanks Pez, you're the best.”

She rolls her eyes at him, smiling softly. “Anything for my favourite.” She winks at Louis, before going back into the room with the glass window. “Gonna let you in.” She says, sitting back in the chair.

Harry nods, leading Louis to another milky glass door and then there is a buzzing sound and Harry pushes the door open. It goes mutely, as if it’s not even scratching over the floor like a normal door.

He’s met with a wide looking area. There is a long table, some men sitting around it playing cards, laughing as one of them loses. There is a TV on the wall and a run-down looking sofa in front, some talk show playing but no one is watching. There are nurses walking around, some of them helping patients walk or sit or carrying trays around.

“Uh,” Louis fumbles, taking in the scene in front of his eyes. “Harry?”

Instead of an answer, he gets a kiss on the top of his head, which should not do the job of soothing him but it does and Louis slings his arm around Harry’s waist again, holding on tight one last time before they part and Harry takes the lead.

They are being watched. Some nurses nod at them or smile at Harry in passing, and Harry of course knows where to go, doesn’t falter in his steps when he leaves the ‘living room’ behind and walks towards a closed red door.

Louis trails behind, gulping as his nerves kick in.

Harry stops, his hand lingering tightly on the doorknob. He smiles nervously back at Louis and Louis is quick to return it, nodding for Harry to go on. He is right behind Harry now, hearing him breathing out shakily and he thumbs there, where the dimples in Harry’s lower back would be if it weren’t for the shirt covering them.

Apparently, it’s all Harry needs because he knocks softly on the door then, and opens it, without waiting for an answer.

Louis inhales and stands on his tiptoes to peek over Harry's shoulder.

There is a woman sitting on a twin sized bed, legs crossed and her nose buried in a book. She looks up when she hears the door open and her green eyes light up like the stars at night, when she notices it’s Harry.

“Oh,” she smiles surprised, flicking her long chestnut hair over her shoulder, “Harry.” The woman breathes, closing the book with such a care as if not to make too much noise. She scoots to the edge of the bed, legs swinging once before her naked feet settle on the ground.

“Hi mum,” Harry says, striding towards her. Louis watches as Harry kneels in front of the bed, burying his head in the woman’s lap. Her fingers find their way in the tangles of curls, gently running them through the knotted mess.

Louis isn’t breathing.

Overwhelmed, his heart starts beating off rhythm and tears tug at the back of his eyeballs as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Oh my baby,” the woman - Harry’s mum, oh God - coos, smiling warmly down at her son, who has slung his strong arms around her middle, trying to get as close to her as possible in the kneeling position he’s in.

“Who did you bring with, dear?” She asks and Louis freezes, because he was so caught up in watching Harry and his mum that he didn’t spare a single thought that she can see him too. He is staring, still standing in the doorway, feeling like he should be anywhere _but_ here. He blinks the wetness out of his eyes.

Harry lifts his head, clearing his throat like he’d forgotten Louis is there, too.

“Mum,” He says, getting to his feet but resting his hand on her shoulder, gazing to Louis, smiling slightly. “This is Louis.” He says proudly, but there is some insecurity in his voice that lets Louis know how hard it is for Harry to do this.

The too familiar green eyes of the woman catch his gaze. “Where is Gemma?” is what leaves her lips.

Harry’s smile falters. “Uh, it’s Sunday, she’s coming Tuesday, remember?”

“Is Louis a new nurse?” His mum asks, looking up at her son wide-eyed. “I didn’t do anything, I _swear_ Harry, I _love_ Perrie.”

“No…I know you…didn’t do anything wrong Mum, Perrie loves you, too.” Harry says, looking down at her, squeezing her shoulder.

Louis brings himself to close the door behind him with an almost muted click, using the moment of having his back turned towards them to try and slow his pounding heart. He takes one last inhale before turning around to them.

Harry’s mum is watching him now, fear washed away from her green eyes but there is confusion and Louis forces himself to smile.

He won’t fuck this up. He can't. This is probably the most important situation, _ever_.

“‘Ello,” He greets, thinking this is a good start. Casual, friendly. “I’m Louis, I’m sorry to just…uh, show up unannounced.” Louis says, eyes flickering to Harry for a second. Harry gives a tiny nod and Louis steps closer.

“Louis,” She repeats, then she eyes him up and down…which can’t be good, right? Louis isn’t even sure why she’s in here.

Louis trusts Harry for not letting him get to know his Mum, if she could jump and attack him at any minute.

“Remember when I told you about Louis, yes?” Harry hints gently, “When I said Lara brought some guy into the group?”

“The one who was mean to you?”

Louis snorts, he can’t help it, and as his eyes catch Harry’s, the boy flushes red.

“Yeah,” Harry says with a smile, shrugging. “I was mean too, so we’re even.”

Harry’s mum sighs, blowing a loose strand of her matted hair out of her pretty face. “He can’t be so bad, if he’s standing in my room.”

Louis thinks this conversation…this day couldn’t get any weirder, but somehow it does because then she’s standing up and…embracing Louis in a hug.

“Hello Louis, I’m just messing with you. Harry told me you’re keeping him alive.”

Louis blinks in surprise, locking eyes with Harry over her shoulder and Harry just shrugs, glancing away.

When they part, there is a smile on her ashen face and he returns it much easier than before.

“I’m Anne, love. Nice to see you — _finally_.” Anne says, warmth radiating from her eyes. “I thought you were some made up friend, I never even saw a picture of you.” She tuts, sending Harry a playful eye roll.

Harry bites his lip, looking at his feet briefly. “Wanted to keep him a bit longer for myself.”

Anne sighs. “I can see why. You’re so beautiful, my dear.”

Louis inhales sharply, for the first time at a loss for words, just fish mouthing at the woman in front of him.

“Mum,” Harry says fondly, trying to hold back a smile. “Please, don’t make him run.”

She laughs shortly. “Alright, alright. Louis have a seat.” She gestures to the pair of chairs next to a window with bars.

“Thanks,” He smiles, sitting down.

Harry takes the other chair, feeling right at home, stretching his giraffe legs and crossing his ankles, bobbing his foot. He folds his hands on his stomach.

They chit chat for a while and it’s easy to see where Harry gets his wit from. Anne makes awful jokes just like Harry’s and laughs in the same way as her son. Louis feels more welcome in the tiny room with no paintings and a weird medicinal smell in the air than his own home in London where everything just feels cold and stiff.

There is a warmth radiating from Anne and Louis wonders with a glance to the bars that let the room appear like a jail cell, why this lovely woman is caged in here and not out there by her son’s side, living in the house in Macclesfield that holds so much meaning to Harry.

The more they talk, the more Louis relaxes, flushing under the fond gazes that Harry sends him everytime Louis gets another laugh out of Anne.

Anne listens when Louis talks about his sister but doesn’t mention the fact that Louis leaves out his own parents, and she blinds him with her smile when he says he loves the house and how he spends more time there than at Lottie’s.

“I miss the paintings,” says Anne with a sad sigh, “my baby put so much effort in them. You never bring me drawings anymore, Harry.”

Harry stiffens. “Uh,” he swallows, and for the first time since they entered the room-that-is-not-a-jail-cell, he looks uncomfortable in his own skin, almost scared with the wide eyed look he sends Louis.

And then Louis understands. “I think that’s my fault,” He lies easily with a quiet chuckle. “I’m taking up so much of his time lately, never leave him alone for him to even pick up a pen.” He wrinkles his nose, hoping it comes across as apologetic, “Maybe I should back off a bit.”

Anne smiles sweetly, apparently buying into it. “Oh no, don’t worry about that, I’m glad Harry found another passion to keep him sane.”

Harry sends him a grateful look, smiling slightly in relief.

But Anne’s words make Louis' throat thick with emotions, he knew Harry is…sad in a way, and looking at his mum, Louis knows now why, at least it’s one part revealed. It should be easier to breathe with the knowledge of what is wrong and why Harry is the way he is. Why he talks as if his mum could enter the house any minute and tattle him about the mess they left in the living room or the remotes for the PlayStation still flying around, or the take-out boxes all over the floor.

Louis is relieved that Anne is here, not dead or a runaway like he first thought. But his heart breaks anyway because she should be home. Harry shouldn’t have to drive to Manchester every time he wants to spend time with his mother.

Louis understands he can’t change that, he can only be there for Harry while Anne can’t.

“Harry, dear, would you mind to fill up my water bottle? I know it’s almost dinner time but I forgot to refill it yesterday.” She gives her son a close-lipped smile and Harry scrambles out of his chair with a soft murmured ‘ _of course_ ’.

On his way out, he smiles at Louis, kissing the top of his head in passing and when the door falls shut behind him and Louis is alone with Anne for the first time, his nerves come back. He tugs on the collar of his shirt.  

She stands up too, taking Harry’s seat across the table and leaning forward, elbows resting on the surface.

She frowns. “Harry doesn’t draw anymore.” It’s not a question, so he shakes his head, chewing his lip as the guilt washes over him that he’s been caught in a lie.

Anne sighs brokenly. “I don’t know what he’s doing out there all day, but I can’t protect him, I never could and Harry is too soft for this cruel world.” She smiles sadly, “He never talks about his job.”

Louis tenses up, swallowing around the lump.

“I don’t know a lot about what he does,” She continues, eyes fixed on the table more than on Louis, “I only know that I never ever want to see any bruise on his face again.” With that, she looks up, pinning Louis with a stare. This family has intense eyes, like lasers beaming through him. “Please, please keep my baby safe.” Anne begs, folding her hands to a prayer. “I can’t lose my baby to this world.”

Louis clears his throat, “I’ll do anything to be there for Harry.” He promises, trying to tell her with his own eyes how much he means it. He would give his life for the boy with the curls.

His heart bleeds for this lovely and unfairly treated family. They deserve better, so, so _much_ better.

“Thank you.” She squeezes out before the door opens and Harry re-enters.

He places the refilled bottle on the bedside table, taking in the scene in front of him, eyes flickering from his mum to Louis and back.

“What is going on?” He asks, his jaw set as he takes in the wetness of both of their eyes.

Louis scrubs over his face.

“Everything is fine, darling.” Anne dismisses, “Just having a chat with your boy.”

_Your boy…_

Louis swallows again, trying not to let the words go to his head and mess it up.

He wants that so badly and looking at Harry…maybe the boy wouldn’t mind being his as well, since there is that fond glint in the green of his beautiful eyes.

Harry sighs, giving in without putting up a fight and Louis notices the relieved slump of Anne’s shoulders.

Then without a warning, the door flies open. “Supper’s ready, Anne. You guys better get out.” It’s not Perrie, but a gruff looking man. Louis' brows furrow at the tone of his voice.

“Give me a moment to say goodbye,” Anne says coolly, sitting up straighter, rolling her shoulders back and holding her chin high.

The man puffs out his cheeks, as if it’s a bother to him and shakes his head, leaving them once more.

“I don’t like him.” Harry voices out loud what they’re all thinking. “I talked to Perrie about him but she can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Anne says, standing to embrace Harry for a goodbye. “They just don’t know what to do with me.” She adds playfully as they part, looking up at her son with a mischievous grin.

Harry shakes his head, kissing her forehead. “You’re the worst.” He mutters fondly, and it sounds so much like an inside joke, that Louis feels left out, wanting to know more about how they work.

Anne rolls her eyes, actually baring her teeth before clicking them together in a mock-bite.

Louis snorts to hold back a chuckle but it brings their attention to him anyway.

“ _Ah_ Louis, It was so nice to finally put a face to the name.” She says, floating over to him. “I hope to see you soon.” She wraps him in a hug, squeezing tightly around his middle and he relaxes in her arms, slinging his own around her shoulders. “Remember our talk, yeah?” She whispers in his ear, so Harry won’t hear. He nods, so she knows he understood, before they step back and smile at each other warmly.

“See you Tuesday Harry, and hopefully you too, Louis.” She says, smiling fondly when Harry takes Louis' hand in his. There is no reason to blush, he still does anyway, can't control how his body reacts to Harry openly showing affection. It sends a little spark down Louis' arms and he rubs his thumb over Harry's index knuckle.

Louis just opened his mouth to reply, when the door swings open another time and that same tough looking guy steps inside without being invited.

Louis eyes him up, and the guy sneers at Harry and Louis’ joined hands. Uncomfortable at that, Louis wants to let go of Harry, but Harry just grips his fingers tighter. Louis gulps.

And there goes Real Harry and Drug Dealer Harry appears out of thin air, a taunting smile on his lips as he levels up the other bloke.

“All right?” He asks, raising his brows. He takes a step closer to him. “Be nice to my mum.”

The guy scoffs.

“You hear me, yeah?” Harry says dangerously low.

Louis tugs at Harry’s hand just when Anne breathes a taken aback, “ _Harry.”_

“Just doing my job.” No-Name-Nurse says, shrugging unaffected. “Can't help when she's being difficult, innit? If you got a problem with that, talk to my boss, don't think he'll see it in a different light, though.” The hazel eyes flit to their entwined hands, his lip twitches south. “Just saying.”

Harry sets his jaw. “Maybe it's the wrong job if you can't handle simple human beings.” He says, “Seeing that you're a pig.”

“Harry.” Louis hisses, when Anne audibly gasps. “Let’s not.”

That seems to shake Harry out of his cold state and he glances over his shoulder to Anne, who eyes them confused.

“Yes, let’s not Styles, listen to your _friend_.” The guy sneers.

Harry, thankfully, ignores him and takes a slow inhale before turning to his mother. “Bye, love you.” He says. “See you Tuesday!” Then he shoulders past the guy who is still in the bloody way.

Louis calls his own goodbye to Anne, mixed with an apologetic look and is met with a smile that says, it’s okay.

“You think for the amount of money I fucking pay this institution that they would treat my mum the way she deserves to be treated, but this guy…” Harry trails off, nodding at the busy nurses in passing. “This guy is a pain in the arse, I _swear_.” He shakes his head, pushing the door open and letting Louis step out first.

They wave at Perrie on the way down the hallway to the lift. Harry presses the button with too much force. Louis doesn't know what to say to make it better. “He doesn't have to be so rude all the time, fucking arsehole.” Harry rambles on, letting out a frustrated groan when the lift takes too long to open.

When they are in the metallic cage, their mirrored selves staring back at them, Harry’s still rambling about this bloke, muttering curse words under his breath and cheeks flushing the more he works himself up about it. Louis gets it, really. He doesn't like the guy either. If it weren't for Anne's presence, he'd have stepped in, said something himself.

However, Louis just wants to take care of him, get him to stop tugging on his hair in anger. Louis stands on his toes, not thinking when he crashes his lips against Harry’s. “Everything is _okay_ , yeah?” Louis mutters, then rejoining their lips. “He is a pig.” He agrees, stepping back. There is more to that as well, Louis guesses, it's not only because of that man barking into the room and snarling rude comments to Anne, like they actually are in prison not in a institution for mental illness. From what Louis understood, Perrie is the main nurse for Anne, which means the male nurse isn't spending too much time with Anne. Perhaps it's the nerves, maybe it was the glare the guy sent their hands.

The train of worried thoughts stops when Harry steps closer, pressing Louis against the wall and kissing him back. Humming against Louis’ lips, he cradles his cheek. It's a hard kiss, no gentleness behind the force of it. Louis welcomes it, knowing Harry needs some sort of control. He lets himself be manhandled as Harry’s hand grips the meat of his bum.

“ _Fuck_.” Louis whimpers, embarrassingly high. His dick twitches in interest. Harry grinds his crotch against Louis’, letting up from his lips in favour of attacking Louis’ neck. Louis tilts his head to the side, panting, shivering when sharp teeth sink into his skin.

The doors part with a ding and the spell is broken. Harry lets up from him, ruffling through his hair with rosy burning cheeks. The nurse they're faced with averts her eyes in embarrassment and shuffles into the lift, standing at the far corner.

They glance at each other, biting down on their matching smiles before slipping out. For good measure, Louis winks over his shoulder at the elderly woman and salutes her as she blushes a deep red, huffing scandalously.

Harry cackles loudly, tugging Louis out of the building and into the early evening glow.

“So, I met your mum.” Louis says matter-of-factly, ignoring his semi since he sadly can't do anything about it. Brushing his hair off his forehead, he adds, “She's so, so lovely, Harry.”

Harry breaks out in a smile so blinding that Louis' fingers twitch, desiring to snatch the sunglasses from Harry’s shirt to protect his eyes from the brightness.

“I’m so glad you guys get along.” Harry confesses, ducking his head bashfully, nothing left of the possessive behaviour or anger that had bloomed in him. “Thought you, y'know, wouldn't —”

“I — _nothing_. I adore her, Harry.” Louis says honestly, thinking of the warm smiles and the inviting arms that greeted him. Anne is a mum by nature, that's what it feels like anyway.

“She adores you, too.”

“You don’t know that,” Louis says, searching for the black bread van.

“I do, actually. She wouldn’t’ve invited you Tuesday otherwise.”

“Maybe she just wanted to be nice?” Louis questioned out loud, tugging Harry over to the parked van.

“Nuh-uh,” Harry tuts, fishing for his keys. “Don’t fight against it Louis, you’re lovely too.”

Louis blushes, looking in the other direction. “Am not.”

Harry shakes his head, jamming the keys into the lock and opening the door for Louis, like a true gentleman from a movie.

Louis gets in, watching Harry walk round it.

“Thank you.” Louis says quietly when Harry starts the van, pulling out of the parking spot, his arm draped behind Louis’ seat to see better what's going on behind them. “For…taking me to see her. For letting me meet her.” Louis is honoured that he was given the chance to be a part of this afternoon. It's huge, he knows, it's Harry trusting him, opening up and Louis’ heart flutters.

It's more than friends with benefits, it's more than being partners in crime. It means so much to Louis and he's certain it means even more to Harry himself.

Harry smiles, lining up behind a car. He laces their fingers together, keeping them on Louis' knee.

That says enough.

 

*   *   *

 

“What are we doing here?” Harry just blinks unimpressed at him, like it should be clear or something. Louis scoffs. “I don’t want to be here.” He almost whines…no he _definitely_ whines. It’s truly pathetic. He's not ashamed.

“Well, I promised you to take you out on a date.”

They look at each other.

“At...Lottie’s?”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, grinning, “No, you idiot, do I have to spell it out for you? Wanna do it real _proper_. Picking you up and you know…” He shrugs, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“So, just to clarify, you let me go in _there_ , face the _monster_ that lives in that very house who is just waiting for the opportunity to split my head in half… _just to pick me up in two hours?_ ” Louis deadpans, blinking slowly.  

“That is correct and don’t talk like that about your sister,” Harry tuts, “you haven’t been home lately and I feel bad for keeping you all to myself.”

Louis doesn’t feel bad about hanging out with Harry. Besides - “You offered me your home as shelter, remember?”

Harry hums, bobbing his head side to side. “Yes,” he gives in, pursing his lips. Louis smiles in victory, ready to seal this argument, but then Harry continues, “the offer still stands, _obviously_ , but...didn't you say you want to keep in contact?” Louis stays mute. “Besides, you need a change of clothes.” Harry grins cheekily.

“You could easily do my laundry.”

Harry snorts, thumb rubbing under his nose. “Right, and next you’ll be asking me to cook for you too…” He widens his eyes, “ _oh wait!_ ”

“Ha, ha” Louis rolls his own, “you love cooking for me, shut up.”

“Well, thank fuck for my cooking skills, with yours we’d starve.”

“Oi!” Louis exclaims, pouting. “My cereal tastes delicious, you said so yourself.”

Harry gives a half-smile. “I’d eat your bloody cereal everyday if it meant I get to keep you around.”

Louis sighs. “No, I’ll pass, your cooking is heavenly.”

“Off you go, so I can woo you in an hour.” Harry's smile falters, and Louis frowns at the shift in Harry's position. He avoids Louis' eyes, when he carries on. “Or did you change your mind? I mean, we…— you met my mum now and I know it’s not… _easy_. I know it’s all a big fat mess and it's probably not what you need since—” Louis holds up his palm, shutting Harry up. He can't bear one more rambled word that spins the situation in a very dark direction. Harry bites his lip worriedly.

“No.” Harry looks up at Louis’ firm voice. “This is not what I _need_.”

Harry nods, swallows, glances down at his lap and fiddles with his fingers. “I, uh, understand that.”

Louis lifts his chin, “This isn't want I need.” He repeats, locking eyes with Harry. “This is what I...want. I want _you_ , Harry.” Louis kisses the perplexed expression off Harry's face. He chuckles slightly, when Harry still has his eyes closed, when he recoils.

“O-okay,” Harry murmurs, lids fluttering open. He blushes prettily, then adjusts himself in the seat. “Okay, I- I'll pick you up in an hour? Yes?”

Louis huffs, right, this still is going on. “Why can’t I just come with you to the house?” He whines, making puppy eyes at Harry who shakes his head, smiling like Louis’ pain is funny or something.

“Louis, don’t think I won’t kick your arse out.”

“Charming,” Louis rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, “Maybe there won’t be a date, because I’m dead.”

Harry huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lottie’s car isn’t even in the driveway.”

Louis hadn't noticed that, too distracted by Harry, as usual.

“Oh,” he fish mouths out of the window, “ _right_ , okay, seems like I get to live a little longer.”

They look at each other, then Harry leans forward, pressing his lips to Louis’ cheek. “See you in a bit.” He grins cheekily, apparently very pleased that he’s got his way.

Louis ruffles Harry’s hair, earning a pout in return and with a wink Louis is out of the van.

However the happiness doesn't last when he faces his sister’s home. Guilt nags at his guts and his shoulders slump in defeat.

He waits until Harry is around the corner to stall time. When the car is gone and Louis can't think of an excuse to continue standing outside looking like a fool, with feet that refuse to work the way he wants them to, he heaves his way up the three steps and unlocks the door with the key that’s hidden under the welcome-mat, which mocks him. He doesn't feel very welcome.

The hallway that greets him is empty. He walks through the living room, peeking into the kitchen,  until Louis finds out that he's all on his own. He should be grateful, really. He was afraid to face his sister, not in the mood to explain where he’s been for these past few days. Instead of relief, disappointment tugs on his heart and he pouts at the clean kitchen table. It's his own fault, of course. He's the one who just disappeared and never showed up again.

He’s been a shit brother lately and he wishes he could change that with a hug or tea or movie marathon day.

Be careful what you wish for because Louis’ wish soon comes true. After he has showered and changed into a button-up and black skinny jeans, he hears footsteps in the hallway and then the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a sharp bang, causing him to jump out of his skin. He clutches his heart, turning wide-eyed.

“Louis,” his sister states, observing his outfit warily, “You’re home.”

“I am.”

“And you’re leaving again.”

“I am.” He repeats slipping into his white Vans, that are clean and not dirty with mud or dust.

Lottie plops on the bed, bouncing in place. “How are you?”

“Great,” he smiles at her through the mirror, adjusting his fringe. His hair has gotten long, it’s a mess covering all of his forehead now and he has to angle it a bit to the side, so it won’t fall directly in his eyes.

When she doesn’t say anything else or hasn’t started screaming at him yet, asking where he’s been, he gets slightly irritated. Lottie is too quiet, making him frown and turn around.

“What?” He asks, as she just smiles at him.

“Nothing, you look good.” She purses her lips. “You’ve lost weight, are you eating enough?”

“Are you okay?” He asks, blinking, taken aback by her flat tone. “Why aren’t we fighting?”

“Now, why would we fight, Lou?” She crooks an eyebrow.

“Because I wasn’t home? I didn’t have my phone with me and you couldn’t reach me? Because you’re worried about me? Why aren’t we fighting?” He puts his hands on his hips, staring at her, feeling something tug at his heart when she just keeps that weird smile on her lips. It doesn’t reach her eyes and it worries the fuck out of him. It’s a tad creepy too. He represses a shiver.

“Well, you are home, take your phone with you this time around and of course I’m worried about you, I worry _all the time_ about my baby brother, guess I just got used to it.” She shrugs as if it’s nothing. “But you are alive and you are home.”

“Lottie,” Louis groans, “What’s wrong with you?”

She shakes her blonde head, “Nothing.” Her voice cracks at the end and then there is a whole flood of tears streaming down her face in record time. Louis gapes at her for a second until he remembers how to move. He scoots her up in his arms, rubbing her back in hopefully soothing circles, while she sobs all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry for not coming home.” He whispers in her hair, whilst she shakes with each heartbreaking whine and sob and cry.

He coddles her like a foetus, holding her close to his chest and only when her choked breathing ebbs out, he lifts her chin to bring her to look at him.

Lottie’s mascara rimmed eyes are still wet, a lone tear running down her cheek and he wipes it away, “Tell me what’s wrong.” Because it _cannot_ be Louis, he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

She exhales shakily, swallowing three times then clearing her throat. “Uh…there was this woman today.” She starts, avoiding his eyes, fixing them on her hands in her lap. “She lost her…her baby.”

Understanding blooms in his chest and with it an ache that lets his shoulders sag. Louis swallows.

“Oh Lottie,” He sighs, pulling her close again. “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“S’fine,” She mumbles against his collar, “I’m just…”

“It triggered you.” Louis finishes for her.

Lottie gives a weak nod. “Yeah, she…she was so unbelievably sad.”

Louis remembers Lottie just months ago, her giving birth to a stillborn baby, the umbilical cord having strangled it before it even got a chance to live.

Lottie had been the proudest pregnant woman Louis had ever seen, showing her watermelon tummy to anyone who just glanced at her, travelling back to London to take Louis with her to get all the stuff for the nursery. There had been a light around her, beaming brighter than the sun.

Louis had helped with everything, listened to her rant about the little angel growing inside her and laying next to him in bed, telling him how she wanted her child to grow up and be free, not forced in any way, to have a choice, unlike Louis. And he was so happy for her, when he laid his hand on her stomach, he’d mumble words about being the best uncle for the little bean inside. Louis almost wanted to be better for the baby, wanted to see it grow and he’d hope it’s a boy so he could teach him cool footie tricks, (he’d do that too if it were a girl, duh, but in his imagination, it was a little boy running around in that backyard of Lottie’s).

Tommy would have made such a brilliant dad too, with his warm brown eyes and beaming smile like Lottie’s.

They were the dream team, levelled up the married game so no one around them could reach it because they were perfect for each other. Soulmates, best friends, you name it.

They’d make the best parents.

After Lottie lost her little one, her world was crushed and shattered. Louis stayed in Macclesfield for the second time, hearing her cries all the way from her bedroom, as she refused to eat or go outside. Then after a couple of days, she started sleeping in the nursery, and they couldn’t get her out.

While Louis stayed a full week after the failed birth, he had seen his sister three times. One time, when she started trashing their bedroom, second, when she’d slipped from the trashed bedroom to sleep in the nursery and the third time had been when she’d crashed onto the couch, coddling him close and weeping in his chest.

He had been as helpless and at a loss what to do just like Tommy, who’d been hurting too. Tommy, though, was her rock, never showed any sign of being as broken as Lottie and helped her until she didn’t break down when she walked past the nursery.  Louis is once again glad Lottie married him.

Louis went back to London, leaving them to mourn, because he knew Tommy was just as heartbroken, even if he didn't let it show, and he knew they needed the time alone.

A week later, he got a call from Lottie, saying Tommy and her had gone on vacation for the next few weeks. Weeks turned into months, his parents missed them at Christmas. Louis was too high to feel anything else but relief because wherever they did go, the weekly calls got to the point where Lottie didn’t cry in his ear anymore.

They came back in April, and started working right away, though their parents (Tommy’s too) offered to help out with the money so both of them could rest a bit longer. They refused and said it was for the best, to get back to normal.

Everybody understood and left them be.

Looking back, Louis could’ve done more for his sister, and looking at it now, he sees it’s still an open wound. It’s not helping that she works as a doctor either, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” She wheezes before inhaling deeply and sighing pitifully, “I’m a mess.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Louis blinks back into the present, thinking about it for a short second, he asks, “d’you want me to stay?”

“Where are you going?” And just like that, the sadness is cleaned from her face, a perfect mask again. They are so much alike when it comes to showing weakness, they don’t like it. They don’t like to be weak in front of people and would rather cry alone in a room where no one is watching than open up about their bloody feelings.

Both of them too proud, probably.

“Got a date with The Creep, remember?” Louis smiles, playing along to get them out of the sullen mood but still, there is a hand of steel around his heart, clenching it and with every heavy beat, concern swooping through his body.

Lottie rolls her blue eyes.

“A date, at his… _house_ ? You know how that will turn out,” She makes a gesture with her finger, as if to cut her own throat, “ _gggrrckk_.”

Louis laughs quietly. “Shut it, no one is going to die.” If she knew he spent more time at the house than hers…God, she'd have his head.

“I ruined your shirt.” She observes, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” He tuts, kissing the crown of her hair. “I didn’t like it anyway.”

They both know it’s one of his favourites that brings out the curves of his body (that's what Nick once said, Louis can't deny it), but they don’t mention it, because then Lottie would’ve to admit that she cried and she won’t ever do that. The reason is too huge to talk about freely and the moment of openness is over, the time is up and Lottie is closed off again, the wall around her heart is back up and she…

Louis is concerned about her, how she’s doing because they haven’t talked about it since the beginning of the vacation last year.

“I’ll do your hair, yeah?” Lottie offers, standing up, brushing the not existent dirt off her jeans and opening his closet. “What’s the creep’s name anyway?”

“Uh…Harold.” Louis says, unsure if he can say his real name or not, as Harry had mentioned before that he knows his sister.

“Harold?” Lottie snorts, handing him a black see-through shirt that Louis had thought he’d left behind in London.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with his name?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs, turning around when he changes his shirt, and when he looks down at his sunken stomach and the yellow bruise on his ribs from the fall last night, he appreciates the gesture.

“I like his name, I tease him a lot about it so he doesn’t forget.” Louis snickers, pulling his shirt over his head and tucking it in correctly. The soft fabric feels nice and though it’s kind of see-through, the bruise is hidden, just a dark spot that could easily be confused with a shadow.

“I bet you do,” she says, facing him.

At the beginning of Harry and Louis hanging out, Harry always wasted his words to correct Louis, ‘It’s not my name, Lewis, it’s Harry like Prince Harry, and Louis would roll his eyes, saying, ‘sure Harold, compare yourself with our lovely Prince’. Now Louis thinks that maybe Harry is a prince, being The Nobel Drug Dealer in town.

Makes no sense. Whatsoever.

Louis can’t think properly anyway, hasn’t had anything to eat yet and his brain still is a bit fuzzy from today's events, Lottie’s breakdown included.

“You need a haircut.” Lottie says, when Louis is seated in a chair without a backrest. They are in the bathroom and the dim light makes Louis cheeks look just like his stomach - sunken in and hollow.

“What’s wrong with it?” Louis pouts, brushing his fingers through his fringe and earning a slap on his hand for it. He glares at her and she stares right back.

“I’m in control, let your paws rest, don’t mess it up.” Lottie orders and he rolls his eyes at her stern tone.

“You should have become a stylist, you take that shit too seriously.” Louis muses. “It’s just _hair_. You should see his, it’s almost down to his shoulders now.”

Lottie’s hand freezes for a moment in the air, then she shakes herself out of it and reaches for the hairbrush and the blow-dryer.

“Yeah?” She asks casually. “Long hair? You like that? Thought you like ‘em tough looking, some army guy or summat.”

“I like him,” Louis says simply, because it’s true. He’s gotten quite fond of the long curls, loves to run his fingers through them when they are just hanging on the sofa, Harry’s head in Louis' lap and some weird cartoon playing on screen. He can't lie, it's his favourite thing.

“Aww, Louis.” Lottie coos.

“Shut up, Lots.” He rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back the smile that’s threatening to split his face.

“No,” she says, tugging on his hair. He winces at the pain. “You never talk about the guys you’re seeing. This has to be a special one.”

“Special, indeed.”  

“Some material to bring back to the parents?”

Both of them notice her mistake right away. The tension in the bathroom becomes thick and Louis coughs awkwardly, shifting in his seat.

“I mean, can _I_ meet him?” She’s quick to say and his neck prickles with sweat though he just showered.

“Someday, sure. It's our first date, so.” Louis says, not looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Don't want to scare him off.” He lies.

Lottie makes a nonchalant noise and lets it drop, just like that.

She does his hair and they make chit chat over the loud blow of the hair-dryer. He’s always loved it when people play with his hair. Lottie always did it when they were kids and he’d had a nightmare, he’d crawl into her bed and she’d run her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep.

It’s things like this that make him feel like shit for being who he is and what he does. The deals aside, he’s still doing drugs right under Lottie’s nose and getting away with it. She has never questioned him, trusting him way too much and after The-Failed-Talk, she never brought it up and Louis feels _guilty_ , knowing full well that tomorrow or the next day, he’ll be high again.

He's hit with longing for his sister, although she's right behind him, doing his hair for his date. It shouldn't be this way. He should be allowed to openly gush about Harry, the first person he gave his heart to, which is kind of a biggie. He should talk her ear off about how amazing his date is, not tense up at the mention of the topic or the simple question about his name. He can't even tell her what he's doing for a living. Louis knows it's not Harry's fault, _it's not_. But. It's sad, somehow, to have something twisted that actually is the most beautiful thing in Louis’ sorry excuse of a life.

However, going back all those weeks ago, he wouldn’t have imagined he and Harry would ever get along, and now they are going on a _date_ . Harry isn't simply a drug dealer anymore to Louis, he’s just _Harry_ and that’s maybe that what makes it okay telling Lottie about it in the first place, maybe it doesn't matter that it's difficult to go about it.

Louis knows this is utter bullshit. Harry, of course, is still selling drugs. Which means, it doesn't matter how much Louis wants Lottie to meet Harry. It hurts that he knows they'd get along, too. He won't ever get the chance to show off Harry the same way Harry did today, bringing Louis to his mother.

This is different. Louis _can’t_. Won't ever be able to, probably.

Louis has to keep his two worlds apart from one another, because he’s not better. He takes drugs and he sells those fucking drugs now, too.

Lottie would kill him, if she ever found out.

Nostalgic thoughts and feelings aside, Lottie lets him know he's ready to go, that his hair is don and that his outfit looks real good (maybe a bit over the top with the shirt, but _whatever_ , they are going to see a movie, no biggie…haha, yeah).

The moment he stops thinking negative thoughts, all the nerves come back, which is bollocks. They’ve _slept_ together, Louis knows what Harry tastes like and what his face looks like when he comes, so he should be smug, not nervous…yet here he is, rubbing his clammy hands on his trousers until Lottie stops him, promising he looks handsome and has nothing to worry about.

“Your creep is going to want to keep you forever.” Lottie jokes, boxing his shoulder. “The way you look, all proper dolled up.”

“We’ll see.” Louis’ lips twitch. He actually wouldn't mind that. Louis doesn't tell her that though, since she assumes it's their first date and all, just hugs her and thanks her again.

Lottie calls after him to have fun and be back at ten. They both know he won’t be back by ten and is probably going to stay out for the next day, but she made him take his phone with him, so they are good.

The moment Louis is out of the house, the sound of his phone rings through the mild evening air, the sunset glowing over Louis' face that is slowly splitting with a smile reaching from ear to ear. He changed Harry’s name in his phone to _Frog_ , well his ‘private phone’ is what Harry calls it, his ‘business phone number’ is saved as _Bad Frog_.

 _Frog_ is playing on screen, every ring of his phone gives a little tug on his heart, letting it swell with excitement. He picks up, “I was promised a date,” He says as a greeting, “If you’re gonna make me walk all the way to your house, my lazy arse is gonna turn around and march straight up to my bedroom.” Louis would never do that, he’d sprint to Harry’s if that’s what the boy wanted.

He’s met with the lovely sound of  Harry's deep throaty laugh, making him smile even wider, eyes forming half-moons, and he actually can feel the skin wrinkle around them.

“Walk around the corner.” Harry drawls, “Down the street.”

Louis sighs, looking left and right, scrunching his nose. “Which way?”

“Right.”

Louis chuckles, already starting to pace down the pavement, feeling Lottie’s eyes on him as he gets further away from her house.

He ends the call when the black bread van with the key scratcher comes in sight, when he’s only a few metres in distance away, the door swings open and Harry steps out.

Harry looks gorgeous, from his wavy hair that’s held back by a black bandana, soft curls escaping behind his ears to his simple white t-shirt that hints at the tattoos like shadows and his tight skinny jeans that cling to his thighs like a second layer of skin. His black boots have little heels, which click against the street with every step Harry takes.

There is a promising dimple on display, a smile so big it could light up the darkest of night and eyes beaming so bright, they make the stars shake in the sky in fear of being replaced.

Harry is radiant, and Louis sucks it all in, like he’s coming out of deep winter with snow storms and snow knees high, and it’s finally spring and the sun is shining for the first time. That’s how Louis feels, when Harry stops in front of him and smiles down at him like the feeling is mutual.

Louis’ breath hitches in his throat when Harry pulls him close, kissing his cheek before beaming at him again. “You look beautiful.” He says with a lopsided grin. “How can I be so lucky that I get to go on a date with you?”

That brings Louis out of his weird stare and he blinks up at Harry, and instead of saying something cheesy like ‘no, I’m the lucky one’ (because honestly, _Louis_ is the lucky one) he snorts. “Yeah right, Curly,” and then, “I should be the one wooing you.”

Harry laces their finger together, tugging Louis towards the car. “Why is that?” He asks, still easily grinning.

“I’m older.” Louis states. Harry snorts.

“That’s reasonable, you can wine and dine me next time.” Harry nods seriously.

Louis hums in thought. “You’re pretty confident that there will be a second date.”

“I’m already planning our wedding, baby, I thought lavender theme would be lovely, yeah?”

Louis chuckles, watching Harry unlock the passenger side and opening the door for Louis. “As long as I get to choose the cake.” Priorities.

“Anything you want.” Harry smirks when Louis climbs in the car, wiggling his bum to get comfortable on the leather seat.

“I want a live band.” Louis chirps when Harry is sitting beside him.

Harry lets out a breathy laugh, starting the car. “Oh, I am all in for the idea of a live band.”

“Of course you are, Baby Jagger.” Louis says fondly, ruffling Harry’s hair.

Harry takes a left turn, stopping at a red light. “We still have time for dinner before the movie starts, you hungry?”

“Starving,” Louis answers without missing a beat, rubbing his growling stomach, “could eat a horse.”

Harry laughs, glancing at him. “Wanna hear a joke?”

“No.”  

Harry pouts lifting his chin mock-offended and sniffing loudly, Louis laughs, waving his hand around. “Okay, okay, go on.” He says with a giggle.

Harry inhales deeply, “Two horses stand in a field. One horse says to the other, _man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!_ and the other horse goes, _muuhh_.”

Louis holds in his laughter for about three blinks of his eyes, then he breaks, snorting an unattractive laugh, scrunching up his nose, his blubbering laughter ebbing out to an amused chuckle. “You’re the _worst_ , Harry.” He says, his voice dripping with fondness, pooling at his feet, maybe he could drown in it someday. Not right now, since he's a swimming pool of happiness. “You sure dealing with drugs is the right profession for you? You make quite the comedian.” Louis deadpans.

Harry beams at him, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“You _laughed_.”

“I did _not_.”

“Yes, you did, you thought it was funny.”

“Harry.” Louis chews on his lower lip that’s trying to curl in a smile that would give him away.

Harry presses down the pedal when the lights turn green and Louis looks out of the window, feeling loose and giddy altogether. “ _Muhhh_ ,” he mumbles to himself, seeing his own reflection smile. He can see Harry glancing over to him with a proud look and Louis thinks, maybe he’ll give Harry that one joke.

Harry parks in front of the Diner. “Is it a good idea…” Louis wonders, remembering Niall’s blue eyes twinkling with glee at the two of them. Louis loves the lad — don’t get him wrong — but he’d rather have one date with Harry… _uninterrupted_ , one night without any knowing eyes or amused smiles from their friends.

“Don’t worry, I checked beforehand if he’s working tonight…which he isn’t,” Harry, the wise Mind-Reader says, “feels kinda weird being watched.”

Louis exhales a long breath.“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Their waitress is Rose again, and she rolls her eyes at Harry when he smirks at her.

“Well, we don’t serve rude customers,” she chirps, when Harry asked for a booth for two, “sorry Harry.”

Harry inhales, eyes widening the more air fills his lungs, he lifts a finger on his chin, rubbing it while glancing around the nearly empty Diner. “You really wanna turn us down?” He asks, squeezing Louis hand, “I mean, you guys are busy tonight, I get it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “See that’s what you get when you ask random people about their bloody sex life.” He mutters, smiling at Rose, who narrows her eyes at him.

She’s quite intimidating for a girl so small, reminding him a tad of Lara.

“People tweet about their sex life all the time,” Harry remarks, “What’s the difference?”

“Well, you don’t fucking know the person behind the account now, do you?”

Rose snorts. “When you guys are done bickering, you can sit wherever, I’m done with you lot.”

“Great, there goes your tip, Rosy.” Harry says, but leads Louis to the booth at the far end of the Diner anyway.

“You’re my favourite, Harry, you know that,” Rose calls after them, “Always _so_ charming.”

“I try my best.” Harry grins at her before sliding into the booth next to Louis.

Louis shakes his head. “You really are the worst.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Harry pouts, “See how you get home tonight, teaming up with Rose.” He clicks his tongue, but smiles a moment later, scooting closer into Louis' space.

“You always let your date walk home?” Louis asks, picking up the menu, eyes roaming over all the different choices.

“Hm, apparently. Never had a proper date…you’re my first.”

Louis looks up at that, but Harry’s nose is buried in the menu.

“Me too.” Louis says softly, hooking his foot around Harry’s ankle.

Harry looks up, “I like that.” He says after a moment, “Us being each others first at… _something_.”

Louis nods, murmuring a soft. “Yeah.”

It makes no sense, because Louis has done almost everything there is to do in the bedroom, he’s had quite a wild time. But where the sex part was pretty awesome and he has loads of experience…the _emotional_ part is one like a teenager, never dated, never had anyone to share his day with, go on a proper date, just like Harry said.

Well, as long as booty calls doesn’t count as dates, Louis muses, picking a meal and closing the menu.

“We’re doing it backwards,” Louis says, after Rose has gotten their drinks written down on the clipboard. “We had sex and now we’re on a date, it feels like cheating on a test or something.”

Harry shrugs casually, turning his upper body towards Louis so they can make eye contact. “I’m not complaining, besides, would you have gone on a date with me before any of the other stuff happened?” He arches his eyebrows, like he already knows the answer.

Louis chuckles. “Nah, you wanted to attack me when you found out about Zayn. You can’t tell me you fancied me back then either.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then Rose is back with their drinks, and he bites his tongue, blowing air out of his nose.

“There you go,” She says, placing the two beers in front of them, “can I take your order or d’you guys need another minute?” She pops her white gum, blinking bored.

“The chicken sandwich for me, thank you.” Louis says, smiling politely.

“Tuna sandwich for me, Rosie,” Harry grins, “please,”

She rolls her eyes. “Good choice, will be ready in a bit.”

“What’s up with you two? It cannot be the sex question.” Louis says, watching the girl disappear in the kitchen.

Harry purses his lips. “Nah, s’not that.”

“You guys have a history?” Louis can't help but cringe.

Harry’s nose wrinkles, too. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“Uh, she fancied Lara back in school they never got together though,” Harry shrugs, “I know her brother as well, and he was a major dick.”

“Was a major dick or has a major dick?”

“Both, goes together I’d say.”

Louis laughs. “Yes, I’d say that too,” he says, glancing down at Harry’s crotch, quirking a brow.

“ _Heeeey_ ,” Harry drawls, “I’m a nice guy.”

“So you don’t deny you got a big dick?” Louis smirks, smug about the blush that’s creeping up Harry’s neck.

“Well, you tell me.”

Louis groans. “S’alright.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smiles coyly, wiggling his brows, dimple popping out.

“Shut up, we’re in public.”

“Hmm, does that mean I get to take you to my bed, tonight?”

“Moving pretty fast, don’t you think?”

“You guys are gross.” Rose interrupts on her way to another table.

Both of them snicker, and Louis feels like a schoolboy again.

Their food arrives with a too innocent smile from Rose, and a remarked, “It’s poisoned.”

“I kinda believe her,” Louis says, eyeing his food suspiciously. It looks normal, anyhow, that doesn’t say _anything_. “I want Niall as our waiter again, seriously.”

“Niall would sit down with us, drink our beer and talk non-stop in his break.” Harry says, taking his sandwich in his hands, “I think I’d rather be poisoned by Rose than have to deal with the sunshine that’s Niall.”

“You are right, better be poisoned than die of embarrassment.” Louis nods seriously, taking a careful bite from his own sandwich. It’s actually good.

They chew for a few minutes in silence, their ankles still tangled and Harry swings their feet slightly. It’s more relaxing being on a date with Harry than Louis had thought, not much has changed between them. There is no awkwardness, like he’d feared. It's just _them_ being _themselves_.

This is too easy, Louis thinks, glancing at Harry, who immediately catches his eyes and smiles at him. Just like that. Louis returns the smile, of course, but - there has to be some sort of hidden trap somewhere, _right_? Being on a date with Harry is way too perfect to have any place in the mess that's Louis life. Nothing ever goes smoothly.

So, he waits for something to jump him. They chat a bit after they finished their meals, and drink a second beer - well _Louis_ is drinking a second beer, because Harry’s got to drive after all - and at some point, Harry pulls him under his arm. Louis starts playing with the tips of Harry’s hair, tugging it back in place from where Harry ruined it with his fingers.

It’s all very adult-y, with them going out for dinner - what they’ve done before, but not like this - touching each other in public, for everyone to see and sharing a delicious piece of cake afterwards.

Louis is...   _happy_. It feels so good just being with Harry, he even laughs at the knock-knock jokes or bad puns Harry throws around like free candy.

“How long have you guys been together?” Rose chirps into the bickering about who will pay, her tone more friendly than her unimpressed drawl before. “You’re both cute. Never thought I’d say that about you, Harry.”

“Gee, thanks.” Harry pouts, pulling Louis closer.

 _We are not together,_ Louis wants to answer, but he can’t bring himself to say the words because he actually doesn’t mind hearing Rose saying something like that about him and Harry. And when Harry doesn’t correct her either, just jokes with her for another minute, Louis starts to think they are on the same page.

Neither of them answered her question in the end and Louis is too distracted with thoughts and feelings that he doesn’t notice Harry paying until they are outside.

Louis step falters. “You paid,” he states dumbly at Harry’s back. “Again,” he recalls the first time they went out for dinner and Harry paid when Louis went to the bathroom.  

“I asked you out,” Harry says simply, like it’s obvious thing to do.

“I’ll pay for the movies, then.” Louis squeezes Harry’s fingers that fit so well with his own, like two puzzle pieces.

“Hm… _no_.” Harry grins.

“Hm… _yes_.” Louis mimics, bobbing his head side to side.

“Louis, let me do it.” Harry says, small frown on his face as he unlocks the car. “You can pick the movie.”

“Of course, I will.” Louis scoffs. “I’m not gonna sit through some romantic bullshit.”

“You saying you didn’t enjoy _The Notebook_?” Harry raises a teasing eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “I remember you sniffing in a tissue when they died at the end.”

“Yes,” Louis crosses his arms, “maybe I cried because the movie was that _bad_.”

Harry snorts unbelieving, shaking his head, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Plus, it’s unrealistic. Who buys a house for someone who doesn’t write back to you?”

“She didn’t know he was writing to her.” Harry counters.

“Still, he should’ve moved on.”

“It was true love, you can’t move on if it’s that strong.”

“You believe in soulmates?” Louis asks, not getting into the car though Harry holds the door open for him.

Harry chews on his lip. “I do.”

“I’m not surprised.” Louis muses, fighting back a smile. “You’re a right sap.”

Harry just shrugs, “Whatever. We don’t have to watch something _romantic_ , we can watch horror if you’d like that better?”

“No more zombies against aliens,” Louis says with a shudder, remembering the shitty movie Lara dragged him to.

He _also_ remembers that that was the first time he saw Harry.

Harry seems to remember too, his features softening. “Get in, otherwise there won’t be any movies playing by the time we arrive.”

That makes Louis finally sit down on the leather seat.

“Why'd you have a bread van?” Louis asks, as Harry pulls out of the parking lot.

Harry inhales. “Uh,” he exhales, “my family used to own a bakery.”

“Used to?” Louis asks, curiosity sparked.

Harry nods, not looking at Louis, rather concentrating on the non-existent traffic. “Yeah, this car is leftover from it.”

Before Louis can ask any more questions, they are parked at the cinema, but it doesn’t leave his mind as Harry hops out of the car, rounding it to open the door for Louis, too.

When one of the things about Harry finally makes sense, something else pops up. The questions are endless and Louis thinks he wouldn’t mind spending his entire life figuring it all out.

 

***    *    ***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit nervous about chapter 10, I'd love to hear you guys thoughts about it? xxx


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone and happy monday! I am beyond amazed by the wonderful feedback and super happy you guys enjoy this story as much I did while writing it! And, I am so sorry I couldn't reply to a single comment, it's because these past two weeks been hell, I've been running from one place to the other and wasn't really home or had a minute for myself, I thought I wouldn't need my laptop so I left it at home and that wasn't a good idea lol, when I wanted to reply via my phone the keyboard wouldn't open, which isn't annoying at all - obviously. Thankfully this time is over now and I can breathe again, hahaha, anyway, thank you guys for reading - I really hope you enjoy chapter 11!! Loadssss of love xxxx

 

***    *    ***

 

 

Obviously, Harry gets his wish fulfilled, since Louis can't deny him anything. 

They picked a romantic comedy.

Louis blames the innocent-but-not-so-innocent big green eyes that convinced him…the little adorable pout of pink lips might have helped too. Louis didn't stand a chance. Harry knew, smirk in place and a way too smug expression on his face when Louis rolled his eyes and muttered his agreement. The kiss Louis earned after they bought the tickets is worth sitting through a movie with a weird plot and bad acting.

When the lights go out and they are  _ almost _ alone in the movie theatre, since it's Sunday and late, it's just them and a few others (mostly couples), Louis can’t say he minds much. He's tucked under Harry's arm, their fingers interlocked at an awkward angle on Louis' shoulder, making his wrist sting, but he can feel Harry’s warmth and smell his vanilla shampoo, so yeah…Louis doesn’t mind one little bit.

Not even when the plot of the movie takes a weird unrealistic turn that makes Harry sighs dreamily and Louis repress a snort.

One good thing though is that they snatched the seats at the far end, so no one is paying attention to them at all. They are not seen and Louis gets a little restless as the movie goes on. He’s never been good at sitting still for too long - it got him into trouble at school and at his mum’s company, since the permanent squeaking of the chair annoyed the shit out of his mother until she snapped and made him sit on the floor for the rest of the afternoon - and he shifts in his comfortable seat, leaning closer to Harry, putting his head on the boy’s shoulder, earning a fond smile in return.

He nuzzles into Harry’s neck, nosing at the bare skin and breathing in the cologne, the one that was all too intense the first time they were in the movie theatre.

“What are you doing?” Harry hisses, eyes still fixed on the screen but turning his upper body further towards Louis as his head tilts to the side, giving Louis more access to his neck.

“What does it look like?” Louis whispers, planting an open-mouthed kiss on the skin, nipping gently at it.

Harry shudders as Louis sinks his teeth into the soft skin.

Louis lets up from him and Harry whimpers, making a weird movement with his head that reminds Louis weirdly of a cat that wants to be petted.

“Hmm,” Louis blows warm air over the wet spot, resting his free hand on Harry’s thigh, starting to stroke it, casually glancing around.

“You getting off on that?” Harry mumbles, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, shivering. There is a pretty blush on the highest point on his cheeks that Louis only notices because he is still so close.

“We both know, you like it too.” Louis whispers right back, arching a slow brow when his fingertips brush over Harry’s cock. It’s already a semi in his jeans and Louis blinks twice when it twitches at the contact.

Harry adjusts his legs, boots scratching over the floor.

There is a bashful smile on his lips when he turns his head to lock eyes with Louis. “I feel naughty about the whole ‘breaking into the house thing’, it’s your fault anyway.”

“How so?” Louis asks, hand letting up from Harry, hovering centimetres from him in the air, pinky and thumb twitching with the longing to reach out and touch again but he enjoys it too much when Harry lifts his hips uncontrollably, trying to gain back friction.

“Because you were supposed to stay outside.” Harry hisses, brows pulling together as he can’t reach Louis' hand.

“You were the one throwing me on the fucking bed.” Louis voices, giving in to Harry's pleading eyes and directly touching the now obvious outline of Harry's hard-on.

“ _ Urrgshhhsh _ .” Harry tilts his head back into his neck, rolling it to the side so he’s still looking at Louis.

Louis shoots forward, joining their lips and swallowing all the whines and whimpers that Harry’s breathes out, while his hand works over Harry’s cock teasingly.

“I’m not going to make you come.” Louis whispers, when their lips part with a smack.

“But I’m  _ close _ .” Harry rasps quietly. “Louis, you can’t let me hang. Don't be cruel.” He covers Louis’ small hand with his large palm, keeping Louis in place, pressing down hard. Louis gulps.

“I’m not going to make you shoot your load in your boxers.”

“I don’t  _ care _ ,” Harry moans muffled, cheeks flushed bright red.

“Tsts,” Louis winds his hand from underneath Harry’s but laces their fingers together, firmly keeping them on Harry's upper thigh.

He kisses the pout right off Harry’s lips. “Don’t give me that face,” He murmurs leaning back. “I want to enjoy the movie.”

Harry makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “You don’t like the movie anyway.”

“Who said that?”

Harry rolls his eyes, adjusting himself in his jeans and crossing his legs awkwardly.

“I hate you.”

“Hmm, doesn't look like you do.”

“Shut up.” Harry whines, hunching down so he can rest his head on Louis' shoulder. “Watch the bloody movie then if it's so interesting.”

Louis slings his arm around Harry, pulling him in as close as the stupid armrest allows. “Don’t be mad, I'm just looking out for you. Save you the laundry, too.”

Harry snorts but kisses Louis' jaw, so he can't be that mad about it.

“The first time I saw you in here,” Louis starts, changing the topic. His finger draws an aimless pattern on Harry’s bare arm, “I thought you were Lara’s boyfriend.”

“What?” Harry mumbles against his neck, laughing tonelessly but breathily.

“Yeah, she laughed too. Apparently I’ve been wrong about a load of things from the start.” Louis says, concentrating on the screen but ears perked for any noise Harry makes.

“Me too,” Harry professes.

“About what?”

“Not the right place to talk about it, innit?” Harry kisses his neck. “Besides, you owe me an orgasm, don’t think I’ll tell you freely now.”

Louis pinches Harry’s arm, making him squeal.

“Could you guys  _ please _ keep it down?” A woman says, her head turned in their direction, eyes sending daggers at them.

Harry snorts out his apology because he’s giggling so hard and Louis laughs along with him, muttering “keep it down” under his breath, setting Harry off in another row of breathless laughter. He is sure that is not what the woman meant at all but they are both laughing and the movie is crap anyway, so all is good until someone else shouts, “Shut the hell up or get lost” and by the angry tone, Louis is quick to follow the instruction.

Getting lost, that is.

Getting up from his seat and dragging Harry out, all the while snickering and giggling in each others necks, embarrassment colours their cheeks as they stumble out of the movie theatre and into the night.

Harry is more entertaining than the movie anyway.

 

*    *    *

 

They are back in the car, their trousers around their ankles. 

Harry is panting into Louis' neck, biting down when Louis’ spit-slick fingers put more pressure on the length of his cock.

“Lemme,” Harry wheezes, leaning in and taking Louis into the welcome heat of his mouth, Louis tenses in his seat, as Harry’s skilled tongue massages the vein on the underside, and hollowing his cheeks, he sucks Louis' further in his mouth, until Louis' tip hits the back of his throat.

Louis hisses, trying not to rut up. There are waves and waves of fervent desire running down his aching spine, it all pools together until Louis melts into the leather seat, unable to blink his eyes open, though he wants to watch Harry. Just then, Harry makes the filthiest slurping sound Louis has ever heard and after that, it all becomes white light behind his closed lids. He lets out a mewl as Harry’s head bobs up and down. Louis' fingers bury in his hair, tugging harshly.

“I’m going to—” He warns, almost feeling sad that it’s over so soon, but he can’t hold it back any longer, the foreplay they indulged in in the cinema was just…too much all at once.

Harry hums around his cock, telling him it’s okay and Louis rolls his hips up, tensing when the pleasure gets the better of him and he lets out a high-pitched moan as he comes heavily into Harry’s awaiting mouth.

Lips close tightly around his sensitive head, tongue licking the overstimulated slit and Louis feels like he’s underwater, a rushing sound is all he hears.

“Jesus fucking Christ,  _ Harry _ ,” He groans, dipping his head back on the rest of the seat, chest falling and rising with heavy pants.

His body is absolutely lax, fingers lazily cradling through Harry’s floppy hair. “Fuck.” He hisses as Harry lets up from him with a sinfully wet pop.

“C’mere,” Louis pulls Harry close by the nape of his neck, pressing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss. He can taste himself on Harry’s tongue when they meet. The rest of his cum mixes together with Louis' spit and they make loud sucking noises in the quiet car.

“Let me,” Louis mutters against Harry’s bitten bottom lip, pulling away from the boy to thumb at his flushed and moist cheekbones.

Harry looks at him through heavy hooded eyes, his throat bobs in a swallow. “Yeah, okay.” He rasps, voice so much deeper than usual. If honey has a sound, Harry’s voice would be it, Louis thinks, pressing Harry back against the seat and leaning over the damn armrest to take his cock between his lips.

“I’m— oh — I’m pretty close… _ uhhh _ ,” Harry breathes, caught off guard by Louis' assault. His hands come to rest on Louis' neck, not pressing or holding him in place, but gentle fingers ghost over his damp skin, guiding him.

Louis swallows around him, breathing in through his nostrils as he takes him deeper.

Harry’s hips roll up. “Fuck, fuck sorry.” He moans as Louis' eyes water with the gag reflex. He tries not to cough, humming instead until his jaw relaxed.

Louis fingers find Harry’s balls, rolling them in his hand.

“ _ Ughharhg _ .”

And apparently that was all it took for Harry to buck up without warning, hot cum hitting Louis’ throat, and he swallows everything he can catch.

When he lets up, he licks the underside of Harry’s softening cock before tucking him back into his pants, kissing the exposed skin on his navel.

“That was embarrassing.” Harry whines, “I have better stamina than that.”

Louis laughs breathlessly, ignoring Harry's pouty lips to suck a love bite on his neck.

“Feels like being teenagers all over again,” Louis says, his voice hoarse. “First time —  _ everything _ .”

It feels like it’s the first time with Harry overall, the only difference is that they both know what to do with their tongue and hands. It’s not awkward like the first time should be, it’s more relaxed between the two, easy dopey smiles on their faces when they lock eyes in the moonlit car.

“I quite like it.”

“What’s next, we gonna hump like teenagers too?” Harry asks but his joke falls flat when a grin as bright as the moon herself splits his divine face.

His hair sticks up, the bandana abandoned somewhere in the back of the car, wild curls framing his face, more bushy than usual from when Louis decided to destroy it.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Louis answers truthfully, letting up from Harry and lifting his hips so he can pull his jeans over his bum and tuck his soft hanging cock in his boxers.

Harry fills the car with the sound of his laugh. It's better than any music Louis has ever heard and he smiles with his teeth showing.

Starting the car, Harry lets the fogged up windows down, letting the midnight air inside and cooling their heated skin.

Harry sighs, pulling out of the parking lot. “I think I could eat again.” He says, “D’you want anything before we head home?”

“I crave greasy crap food, yeah…” Louis nods, closing his lids, head resting against the seat, “and a cigarette.”

“How many do you smoke a day?” Harry asks not unkindly, just curious.

“Hm,” Louis purses his lips, moving them left and right. He settles on a shrug. “Twelve, maybe? Uh, depends really.” His eyes flutter open, glancing at Harry’s side profile. “You?”

“I used to smoke a pack.”

“What…like twenty?”

“I think nineteen.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, that one cigarette will make the difference on your black lungs.”

“It relaxes me, I dunno. When I first joined, my hands would always shake and the cigarette calmed me down.”

Louis frowns. “When did you join anyway? Why did you? You never told me.”

Harry shrugs, pulling the car into the drive-through of McDonalds. “What d’you want?” He asks instead of answering, his eyes roaming over all their choices.

“Chips,” Louis says, “and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

The voice out of the automated-thingy asks what they want and Harry leans out of the open window, saying their order before driving to the window with a man wearing a headset sitting behind.

Before Harry gets a chance to pay for their order, Louis already is holding the cash towards the man behind the glass window.

“You don’t have to.” Harry protests, trying to snatch Louis' money, but Louis is quicker, drawing back before waving it towards the man again.

“Quick, take it.” Louis urges him, who smiles amused, “I’m trying to woo him with cheap fast food.”

That coaxes a laugh out of their cashier and just when Louis’ side starts to sting with the way he’s leaning over Harry, he takes the money with a ‘Thank you, have a nice…night’

Harry sighs. “You didn’t have to.” He says, driving to the next window to get their order.

“I know.” Louis murmurs back, watching Harry stretch out of the window to accept their food, carefully taking the cup holder with the milkshakes and the brown bag that’s already soaked with grease.  

Louis sits back, placing their food on his lap as Harry drives around the building, parking his car in the nearly empty parking lot of McDonalds.

“You paid for dinner and the movie we left halfway through, I can pay for a bloody midnight snack.” Louis says, fingers opening the bag. He’s greeted with a warm smell of grease and salt. His mouth waters.

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching into the bag to get out his share of chips.

They leave the windows down and the car running, so they can listen to some bubblegum pop until they can’t stand it anymore and play one of Harry’s mix CDs.

It isn’t much better. In Louis’ humble opinion, indie-rock is something that belongs to the people with beards and long braided hair, smoking weed and wearing rainbow colours.

But the more he listens to it, the more he starts liking it and when Harry asked what he thinks, he lies through his teeth telling him the pop shit was better than the crap that Harry put on. Harry smiles at him as if he knows that’s not true and Louis rolls his eyes, his own smile tugging on the corner of his mouth whilst he chews.

“You still wanna know why I started? I mean, I kinda thought it's clear by now.” Harry says, tongue darting out to catch the straw of his milkshake, swallowing a mouthful.

Louis’ hand freezes in the air on the way to his already open mouth, chip right under his nose. He pops it in and munches slowly.

“Yeah, of course.” Louis says. “I wanna know, like,  _ everything _ about you.” He widens his eyes, circling his open palms, like he’s about to do a magic trick.

It makes Harry smile around the straw, and his eyes light up.

“Kay,” He says, licking his lips, “uh, I mean,” He inhales, placing his half finished milkshake in the cupholder of his car. Angling his body so that he’s sitting with his back to the door, his face straight, he makes eye contact with Louis.

There is a moment of hesitance before he starts speaking again. Louis abandons the rest of his chips, directing his full attention at Harry.

“Uh, I just…it’s not that simple to explain, so I’ll just start at the very beginning, not just when I joined. That way it’ll make more sense, yeah?”

Louis nods, holding his breath.

“Uh, my parents had a bakery,” Harry starts, “or more like my dad owned it, it was his family business, he took over when his father died.” Louis knows all about family business, so he nods, exhaling softly. “My mum worked there too, they met during school, she wanted to become a pastry chef and yeah, well my dad too. So whatever, they met and married pretty young, Gems was born and my mum started working along with my dad in the bakery. They had me and we  _ were _ happy, I guess. Dunno, never felt like something was off until I was like…ten?” Harry shrugs, frowning in thought.

“My mum started seeing some therapist, she took me with her after school and all. I never got it until my parents divorced. He kicked us all out, it was just when I finished primary school, the summer before high school, anyway,” Harry laughs a little at his own stalling, Louis smiles, encouraging. “My grandpa had died just a few months earlier, so we still had a place to live but my mum was unemployed and kinda never got out of bed. Gemma went to University, leaving us too. Not that I’m mad at her, at least one of us is making our mum proud.”

Louis wants to interrupt, telling Harry that this is bullshit and Anne is proud of Harry too, but Harry rambles on. He’s on a roll and Louis knows the feeling. Once started, it’s hard to just stop talking.

“My mum tried to commit suicide.”

The quietly spoken words hang in the car like thick fog. Louis breathes in the sudden tension and it sends little needles down to his lungs. His heart clenches, thinking back to Anne, how warmly she smiled at her son, how green her eyes are, lit up like a candle in a dark room.

Louis tries not to think about all the other people who smile and laugh but are hurting deep inside, like Lottie.

He swallows noisily.

“It didn’t really work out the way she wanted, or like…she pulled out at last minute.” Harry says with a tight voice, avoiding Louis’ eyes. “It was after I graduated and had already got a scholarship for University, and I think she was afraid of being alone? I don’t know. I don’t blame her, I love her so much. If she would’ve said something…” He shakes his head his eyes far away. “I would’ve waited until Gemma was done with Uni, or whatever.” He inhales sharply. “So yeah, I…uh, called the police, they found her and took her to the hospital. Then the doctors said she couldn’t just live by herself anymore, she had to stay there for two weeks anyway and I went to a couple of family therapy sessions with her and Gemma.”

Louis bites his lip.

“My dad refused to pay for her therapy, and Gemma was away at University, and with her part time job, she only just makes the money for her tiny flat that’s basically just a shoebox. And then—” Harry shudders with the memory. “A doctor came to me, after the session. My mum and Gemma were in her room already and my mum was crying because we didn’t have the money to get her proper help. However, this doctor said he could help me if I helped him and I was kinda confused, y’know? Like no one just offers help, so I was wary but I went with him in his office, and he asked me all these random questions.” He scrunches up his face, blinking rapidly like he’s back in the office.

“And he said, I was very pretty,” He swallowed, “and I told him to fuck off because I thought he wanted to be my sugar daddy or some shit.”

They chuckle at that in unison.

Harry gives a tiny smile. “Eh, that wasn’t what he wanted.” His smile fades and the somber mood continues. “He asked me to deliver a packet to some bloke in Manchester, he was over the moon when he found out I had a car. So yeah, I didn’t ask why he couldn’t just…send it.” He laughs humourlessly. “Anyway I was like, yeah whatever. I delivered and the bloke gave me like this…wodge of cash, I’ve never seen so much money in my life. We struggled to keep the house, to buy bread even, so yeah, I was like — what the hell? I thought the guy got it wrong but then I went back to this…doctor and he said I get to keep half. The next time he saw me, he made me run for him again, and again…and then he asked for my number and a day later I got a text to meet up with him and we never really talked about it? I found out it was drugs that he wanted me to sell and left the talking and explaining part to…”

Harry smiles slightly. “Zayn, that’s how we met and yeah Zayn showed me around and let me tag along, introduced me to Ed, since I had nowhere to stay. That’s how it started.” Harry clears his throat, shifting. “Then, uh Zayn got in trouble with some gang members from Manchester, some petty fight but for them…it’s death and blood so he asked…our ‘Boss’ if he could switch to London.” Harry wrinkles his nose. “Our Boss wanted me to go, but I said I wanted to stay close to Gems and my mum. He understood kinda, was a little mad and made that pretty clear with his fists, but I got my wish to stay in Macclesfield.” When he sees Louis crumbling, he adds quickly. “It’s alright, really, like I didn’t have any broken bones or whatever just…some bruises.” He shrugs. “Zayn had it worse. I’ve been pretty lucky so far.”

“Pretty lucky,” Louis repeats with a flat voice, thoughts racing through his head, making it spin with all the information.

“After Zayn left, I was a little bit helpless, so to speak,” Harry looks heavenward. “I used to just simply drive to the buyer, get the money and leave and then with Zayn, I just stayed back, took over the little things while he did the bigger stuff, so when he left I had to do his deals too. And they beat me up, some guys jumped me, didn’t take the money, but the drugs. After that I started working out.” He flexes his muscles, to show off his massive biceps. “Nobody dared to touch Zayn, because he’s so laid back, you know? They never knew what to do with him. But I was jumpy, hands shaking, everything about me screamed weakness and I was just begging to be mugged, seriously.” He rolls his eyes at himself.

“Well, after I starting working out, I was so much bigger than any of the buyers, mostly they were teenagers, some adults too. So, after the first mugging, I never got jumped again, if someone didn’t want to pay…I,” Harry pauses, pursing his lips, “just…put them in their place. Word got around and I earned some respect around the parts of Manchester.” As afterthought, he adds, “Or Macclesfield.”

There is a moment of silence, the radio a low background hum. Harry sighs, fingers digging into his thighs.

“My mum should get out soon, she’s doing better. She’s got new pills that seem to help her so much more than the pills she’s taken before.” Harry shrugs. “I mean even when she gets out and I don’t have to pay for the institution anymore, I will still be selling drugs. The Boss won’t let me go.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something — anything, but what leaves his lips is a pathetic sob. He hadn’t noticed he was crying until then. His cheeks are damp with tears and drops are caught in his eyelashes and…suddenly it’s hard to make out Harry in front of him, it’s all a wet blur and Louis blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His heart hurts, it aches for the boy across from him, so much that his fingers start to shake because he can’t make any of this go away, better, or change a thing.

“I am so, so sorry.” He wheezes, not thinking when he crawls onto Harry’s lap, holding the boy tightly around the middle and burying his face in the centre of Harry’s chest.

Harry wraps his arms around him, pressing his face to the top of Louis' head, he can feel him as he breathes in shakily.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Harry whispers, broken.

There is so much Louis is sorry for. There is so, so, so much.

“Still.” Louis sits back to peek at Harry’s face, there are no tears but his eyes are glossy. “I wish I could help more.”

Harry shakes his head. “You can’t help, there is no need for help.”

Louis’ lip frowns before his forehead does. “Why don’t you just sell the house, pay your mum’s therapy and then just use the money to…dunno, live I guess? Get a normal job or go to University?”

“S’not that simple, Lou. I can’t sell the house because besides the van it’s the only thing left from my family, it’s my mum's. Her family's home, she grew up in that very house and she’s looking forward to living in it again.”

“I understand that, but I can’t respect it.” Louis says with a sniff. “She wouldn’t want you to sell drugs to keep the house.”  _ She knows something is up _ , Louis wants to say but doesn’t, he won’t put more pressure on Harry.

“If I’d want to quit, his people would hunt me down. They’ve already threatened to give my mum the wrong medication.”

“ _ What _ ?”

Harry nods seriously. “Yeah, like he’s her doctor, so…if I wanted to quit he’d just make it look like an overdose or something, he told me.”

“He can’t do that.” Louis shakes his head, blinking wide-eyed in shock. “This is  _ so _ wrong, on  _ so _ many levels.”

“He also has someone watch Gemma,” Harry swallows, avoiding Louis' horror-filled stare. “I put my whole family in danger. They all could die because of  _ me _ .”

There really is no way out.

“I…” Louis starts, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat, “I - I….Lottie? I…”

“No one knows you sell drugs, I, uh - I like share my money with you, kind of?” Harry wrinkles his nose. “I mean we have more consumers since you joined, it’s quicker at the parties? So all they know is I sell more than before, without them knowing that you work with me.”

There are two options, Louis could quit, just telling Harry he wants out, before someone catches on and Lottie, Tommy…Louis himself is getting into this dangerous mess, but that would mean leaving Harry behind and looking at the whole picture, rolling the boy's words around in his mind, he knows Harry’s been alone for too long in this (Zayn aside, his arse is in London). Louis wants to help Harry, protect him. And after Luke, Louis thinks that Harry had his fair share of addicts as much as Louis had his share of drug dealers, though it was Louis’ fault back then, being the little shit he is and all.

Louis won’t quit until Harry quits.

It’s stupid, reckless and…stupid, but Louis doesn’t want Harry to be alone in it anymore.

They’ll figure something out, sooner or later.

Louis exhales. “You don’t have to pay me, Harry.” He says softly. “Keep that bloody money, but I’ll be by your side. Okay?”

Harry blinks, once, twice, then he frowns deeply and before he can protest, Louis cups Harry's cheek, pressing their lips together and breathing in all the little whines and moans Harry makes as Louis’ hands roams over his body until there is no pain left, only pleasure and good feelings.

 

*    *    *

 

“I’m not scared.” Harry answered, voice muffled where his mouth is pressed against the pillow. He yawns, blinking his green eyes open to meet Louis’ gaze. “I used to be.” 

Louis sighs, lowering himself on the mattress so he can rest his head on a pillow as well. It’s three in the morning, and his eyes sting with sleepiness.

“Alright.” He mumbles, throwing his arm around Harry’s warm middle, pulling him close. Harry gets the hint and snuggles his head on Louis' chest.

“Just don’t do anything stupid.” He murmurs, eyes closed.

“I would never.” Louis says, smiling as Harry cracks one eye open again, fixing him with a glare. “Well, fair enough.” Louis backtracks, and Harry smiles, smacking his lips together.

“Just want to keep you for myself a bit longer.” Harry slurs his words, voice raspy.

“Hmm,” Louis kisses his cheek. “I like that.”

“Good night Lou.”

“Night.”

“Sleep well.”

“You too.”

When Harry’s breaths even out a moment later, Louis’ fingers walk in circles on his bare spine. The moonlight shines through the half let down blinds, making Harry look ghost-like, his tattoos like shadows drawn on his ceramic skin. Louis feels his eyelashes flutter on his chest, as he gently strokes Harry.

The thing is, Louis would never do anything  _ stupid _ . This situation Harry is in, is so much out of Louis' hands it’s  _ ridiculous _ . It’s like playing Russian-Roulette.

_ Stupid _ , Louis sighs, you can define the word in so many ways. It’s already stupid to be lying next to Harry, it’s stupid to think he can dance around his problems. It’s stupid to think it will all last and Louis won’t be caught, it’s stupid for Harry to think Louis won’t protect him as much as he can.

So yeah, when Harry says, ‘don’t do anything stupid’ he means ‘save your own arse, not mine’ and Louis thinks it’d be stupid to let Harry run into an awaiting knife. Of course Louis will do ‘stupid’ because helping Harry is anything but.

His eyelids drop and he is fast asleep sooner than he’d like.

 

*    *    * 

 

The only stupid thing Louis has done in a while is to obey his sister and take his phone with him. It’s turned on too, and now blaring an annoying ringtone from its place on the bedside table - non-stop. 

Seriously, the sound could wake the dead, way too loud in the quiet bedroom. And Louis had been having such a  _ nice _ dream.

Louis grunts, willing it to stop fucking ringing, but as soon as the call goes to the voicemail, the next call comes through and Louis buries his face into the softness of the pillow. His eyes are shut stubbornly tight.

“Lou…” Harry drawls from behind him, he feels a shoulder nudge his side, “s’too early.”

Yeah, no shit, aren’t we smart.

“Lou,” Harry rasps, groaning when he sees Louis isn’t moving, but the phone still is ringing and ringing and fucking  _ ringing _ in the bedroom. Louis feels an arm stretch over his body, he smells warm skin and slight sweat when Harry’s armpit rests right at his nose.

“Who’s Grimmy?” Harry asks, voice honey-like and deep from sleep. It cracks at the end and Louis would be turned on by that in an instant - he has a thing for deep voices - but hearing the name Harry said makes all the blood freeze in his veins like he’s been doused awake with cold water.

Inhaling deeply, he rips his eyes open, snatching the phone from Harry who blinks at him confused, pouting like a kicked puppy.

Yep, all the wishes that Harry read wrong, are ignored by whatever power is out there. Sure enough, the name ‘Grimmy’ is flickering on the screen, the light too bright for Louis’ bleary eyes. This can’t be a good sign, Louis muses, frowning deeply, before accepting the call and leaning against the headboard, covers pooling around his hips. He scratches his naked stomach and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“‘Ello?” Louis slurs, his tongue not working properly just yet. 

“Louis, my  _ darling _ ,” Nick’s voices flows through the line, Harry raises a lazy eyebrow whilst his eyes narrow. 

Louis rolls his eyes heavenward and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

“No, you?” 

“I don’t.” Louis says around a yawn. “But it’s bloody early and you have the nerve the wake me up from the sweetest of dreams. This better be good.” 

“You were sleeping?” Nick asks chipper, before his voice does a weird thing and narrows. “That’s why my  _ favourite _ boy isn’t here? This bloody party is boring.” Nick draws the last word out lengthily, which is quite annoying. 

Louis also can feel Harry’s intense stare and he is a bit scared to look his way. He’s been ignoring Nick for ages, but he knew one day Grimmy would catch him eventually.

Apparently today is the day and it’s not even seven in the morning (Louis checked the clock on Harry’s bedside table and might or not might hold back a pathetic sob at the numbers - it’s sleep time, Louis needs his sleep).

Louis closes his eyes, resting his head back on the pillow and pulling the covers to his collarbone. 

“Maybe you should go home then, Nick.” Louis says. 

“Maybe I should come to yours,” Nick is quick to respond. “Y’know, throwing our own little par- _ ty _ .” 

Did Nick always talk like this? Louis wonders, frowning. 

“You wish,” Louis mutters. They never had sex, is the thing. It’s been an inside joke between them ever since Nick had tried to kiss Louis and instead got to a cool bottle of beer held in front of him. They laughed it off, it wasn’t that serious. Whatever. 

“Oh, c’mon Lewis, it’ll be fun,” Louis can hear Nick’s pout. “I can bring some leftover coke.”

“You didn’t cover me the last time we were out,” Louis points out, a bitter feeling rising his chest with a great inhale. “Zayn told me.” 

“Did he now?” Nick asks, unimpressed. “Sorry honey, bet your bank account did the job just fine.” 

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Louis asks, stifling another major yawn. 

“If I can join you?” 

Gross. 

He hears rustling next to him, Harry sits up and suddenly there is the strong smell of weed in the air, making Louis turn his head and open his eyes, blinking against the smoke that’s blown in his face. 

Harry sucks on the joint, hair a mess and pink lips a darker shade than just moments ago. 

Louis licks his own lips, not even listening to the drawl that’s coming through the line. 

“Are you with someone?” Is the last thing he hears, before hanging up, fingers curling loosely around the phone. 

“Who’s Nick?” Harry questions, voice thin with smoke filling his lungs. 

“Nobody.”

Harry blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, sending him a disbelieving look. 

“I thought you said smoking in the house is a no-go.” Louis raises his eyebrows.

“S’my room,” Harry shrugs, handing Louis the joint with a questioning quirk of his brows.

Louis takes it, sitting upright.

“Nick is one of my friends from London.” He says, before taking the first hit.

Harry hums his answer.

“I think he hadn’t noticed I was gone until now.” Louis mutters around the joint. Sucking, he breathes in slowly. “I think you guys would get along, you kinda share the same humour.”

Harry smiles, then it turns into a slight frown. “You’ve been here for what? Five weeks?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, I can’t blame him for not noticing sooner though, he’s always busy, always on coke. I’m surprised that—”

His phone cuts his words off, both glancing in the direction of the sound.

“Uh,”

“Now I know why you’re always leaving it at Lottie’s.” Harry laughs, taking the joint back from Louis so he can reach for his phone a second time.

“Yep.” Louis pops the p, blinking unimpressed when he sees Grimmy’s name on the display again, “What?” He says into the speaker, feeling weed making his heart pound faster, heavier.

“I’m at yours, open the door.”

Louis giggles, angling his phone so that Harry can hear too.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, it’s raining, open up, I bought gifts for your boring arse.”

“My arse is anything but boring, have you seen it?”

“Not in a while,” Nick muses, “I miss your arse.”

“Can’t miss me too much.” Louis rolls his eyes, sharing an amused smile with Harry.

“Hey, don’t belittle my love for you.”

“Hmm, hard to believe.” Louis mumbles with a sigh. “I am not even in London, took you five weeks to finally look for me.”

The silence on the other end stretches on for so long that Louis is able to take two long drags from the joint Harry is holding.

“Oh, is that why my messages won’t get through to you? Because your arse is sitting in LA, again? Or is it Naples this time?”

“Naples is only good to travel to in winter.” Louis corrects unnecessarily, watching Harry lick his lips.

“So you’re in LA? You could’ve told me, I love Los Angeles.”

“I know you do, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that, darling. Just tell me when you’ll be back so we can plan the massive party before Uni starts again.”

Louis sighs. “I dunno when I will be back. I’m not in LA, I’m with my sister.” Before Nick can reply, Louis rolls his eyes, saying, “Anyway I better get back to sleep, long day full of farm work and cows to feed.”

“Yeah, can’t believe you’re ditching me for  _ that _ .”

“It’s fun. You’re missing out.”

“You joined a cult or something?”

Glancing at Harry who grins, he says, “Or something, yeah.” Hanging up, he crashes his lips against Harry’s.

They kiss, sloppier and slower than usual, the weed making their limbs heavy and the pleasant tingle underneath their skin makes each touch vibrate with electricity, all the nerves in their system on fire.

Harry straddles Louis' lap, lazily grinding their groins together.

“Good morning,” he drawls, before opening Louis’ lips with the force of his tongue.

“Good…morning,” Louis moans into his mouth, kissing back.

“Hmm, I could get used to this.” Harry groans as Louis’ hips buck up to meet his roll.

“Hmm, yeah, me too, yeah.” He tugs on Harry’s hair, coaxing a shuddering moan out of him, hot breath blowing in his face.

“Touch me,” Harry whines, guiding Louis' hand to his half-hard cock, hissing when Louis strokes him, exhaling a soft, “yeah.”

Louis wets his lip, their noses bumping together.

“What do you want, H?” He murmurs hoarsely.

“ _ You _ .”

The answer is whispered, but it makes Louis' ears ring as if Harry screamed it at him.

“Good answer,” Louis says, smiling breathlessly, “I like that answer.”

Harry smirks, one hand gripping Louis' neck, the other cupping his cheek. He turns Louis' head in the opposite direction of his own head, bringing their lips together in a whirl of fireworks and breathtaking pleasure, he deepens the kiss, tongue massaging confidently over Louis'.

Louis sucks at his tongue, his lips tightening. Harry shivers, little puffs of air blowing out of his nose. He hums, before drawing his tongue back and licking at Louis' bottom lip.

Louis’ phone rings again and Harry chuckles, letting his head hang low, forehead pressed against Louis' collarbone.

“Your bloody  _ phone _ .” He rasps, “I swear to god if you don’t turn it  _ off _ …”

Louis lets up from Harry’s cock, silencing his phone and burying it under Harry’s pillow.

“Done.”

“Hmm, beautiful,” Harry murmurs, kissing the hollow of Louis' throat, “Now, where were we?”

Harry grins sharply up at him, maintaining eye contact as he sinks lower on Louis' body, hot breath fanning over Louis' cock, that’s currently building a tent in his boxers.

Harry’s dimple deepens. “Right,” he raises coy eyebrows as it twitches under the light touch of his finger. “ _ Breakfast _ .”

Louis’ chuckle turns into a broken moan as Harry takes him in his mouth.

Hm, maybe early mornings aren’t too bad after all.

 

*    *    *

 

After they’ve eaten their  _ actual _ breakfast, they get dressed, enjoying a quick walk with Travis before Harry gets a ‘business call’ and they have to hurry to arrive on time, the buyer already waiting for them in a black shiny car.  

The second deal is held in Manchester, which isn’t all that surprising but a pain in the arse as they have to break the speed limit to get there punctually.

It’s all good, they are good. Since Harry has gotten his past off his chest, he’s become much more open with Louis. His shoulders have lost the stiffness that was always there, and the cool mask only comes on when they step out of their little bubble (the car) and sell their shit.

They part to be done with it all faster and able to head home. It's around lunch time when Louis finds himself walking down the pavement on his way to sell some simple weed. Harry took over the coke-lad, because he’s a friend or whatever and Louis is kinda glad to be not near any white illegal substance for the time being.

Weed it is, and weed sells quick and easy.

The stoner doesn’t look him in the eye when they exchange the stuff and hurries around the corner the moment he’s got it in his pockets.

Louis sighs, bored already, and lights up a cigarette. The pack is nearly empty by now and he makes a mental note to stop by a kiosk to get a new one.

“Look who it is,” a voice snarls, the sound sending tiny prickles of anxiety from the top of Louis' head to the tip of his toes and when he whirls around, he’s met with the same dark, angry looking eyes he’s faced so many times in London.

“This is Manchester.” Louis states dumbly, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“We are smart, today, eh?”

“What…What are you doing here?” Louis swallows, suppressing the urge to pull on his neckline, as if that would help to get more air.

“Missed your ugly face, obviously.”

Louis features harden. “So, what? You travelled all this way to…” He wrinkles his nose. “Beat me up? Is that it? Go ahead.”

The man licks his lips, but stays mute.

Louis smirks. “All talk no game, no wonder they call you Hawk and not Tiger or some shit.” He takes a drag. “No bite, all empty words.”

And there goes his promise to not do anything stupid or reckless, if Hawk doesn’t kill him, Harry sure will.

Hawk steps forward so Louis steps backwards, rolling his eyes inwardly at the move, because he gave himself away.

“You haven’t changed much,” Hawk observes with an amused lopsided grin, “you act tough but you’re just a little boy who’s scared. Where is your guardian angel? Where is Zaynie to save your  _ faggot _ arse this time around, eh?”

“Why are you in Manchester?” Louis snarls, ignoring the words that are spat from Hawk’s ugly mouth in favour of staying calm, collected. Louis' chest gives a pang anyway, anger causing his hands to shake slightly and he sure hopes Hawk won't notice.

“What does it matter to you?”

It doesn’t. Louis is trying to stall for time, Harry should be here any minute.

“Trouble in lovely London?” Louis blinks, appearing bored, though his heart is fluttering wildly. “Have they had enough of your ugly mug? Hm, can’t really blame ‘em.”

They are at the main road, lots of cars, people walking past them. It’s lunch break for most people, so a lot of men in suits and women in pencil skirts are nearby. It’s not past midnight and they are not in a dark alley where no one can see them, they are in the middle of a whirlwind of people. Some send them annoyed glares for standing on the pavement, obstructing their way.

It’s not a place for blood and kicks to the ribs and punches to the jaw, his eyes scan the Hawk’s biceps with a gulp. Yeah  _ no _ , he still wouldn’t stand a chance against the tall broad guy, he looks like the bloody  _ hulk _ .

Where  _ is _ Harry? Goddamnit.

“Y’know who I can thank for that?” Hawk spits out, Louis doesn’t think Hawk actually wants an answer to that, so he waits. “Your motherfucker of a friend.” Hawk barks.

“Please give me more details, this isn’t helping.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I have a lot of idiot friends.” He shuffles his feet back, just a bit more to the street.

“The blonde one, with the weird quiff.”

Louis wonders why the hell they are even talking to each other right now, both of them have better things to do, both of them are selling drugs…for the  _ same _ team. Louis thinks he shouldn’t mention that though.

“Nick?” Louis asks, bobbing his head side to side. “Yeah, well…” Louis shrugs casually. Nick is a chicken, probably didn’t pay and hid behind someone's back.

“Yes, Nick. Gimme his last name and I’ll be on my way.”

“Yeah, no,” Louis chuckles, cigarette almost burned down all the way.

Hawk steps towards him and Louis steps back in their weird sort of dance, he can feel the edge of the pavement under his soles, he tries to keep balance, feeling the wind of the cars on his back.

“Can’t you use Google? Facebook? I think he has Twitter too.” Louis rambles.

Hawk growls, gripping Louis' shoulders, in the same moment Louis lifts his cigarette, smashing the embers against Hawk’s hamster cheek.

Hawk hisses in pain, pushing Louis forward as his hands flying to the burned skin. Louis loses balance, arms rowing helplessly in the air, as he falls backwards onto the street.

He hits the hard ground with a whimpering yelp. Somehow, he’s lucky enough to land on his side, shielding his face with his hands, which wouldn’t do much when a car actually does hit his head. When his head is not rolling around the pavement, and is still connected to his neck, he wastes no more time. Scrambling to his feet before a bloody car runs him over, he stumbles across the street, almost running into the side of a passing car, that comes to a shrieking halt as the driver hits the brakes, head jerking forward with the force of the stop.

Louis can’t stop and apologise, he’s only got a few minutes until the shock of being burned wears off, and Louis is pretty sure he couldn’t outrun or fight Hawk, even with all the footie training he’s done in the past.

So he sprints, runs, leaving honking cars and furious yells in his wake, winding through the mass of people that appear out of nowhere. He brushes past men that send him dark glares and he bumps into a woman carrying a cupholder, almost sending her to the ground. In the last second he holds her upright by her elbow before muttering his apology, then he swirls around a corner and doesn’t stop running until his legs might give out any second with the burn that shoots up his calves.

When the adrenaline wears off and his lungs start to feel like they going to explode any second now, he slows down to a jog and finally comes to a complete halt by a clothing store.

His lungs clench as he swallows gulps of air. Brushing his fringe out of his eyes, he shuts them for a brief moment. His knees wobble and his heart still is the loudest of sounds in his ears.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he wheezes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Louis puts his hands on his hips, rolling his head in his neck and blinking heavensward. He huffs.

“Fucking  _ shit _ ,” He says to the blue sky. “Bloody hell.”

“You curse an awful lot.”

“Bloody fucking shit!” Louis swears, startled, spinning around.

“Don’t hold yourself back.” Ivana grins easily, blue hair tied in a messy bun that sits on top of her head.

“Ivana,” he says still breathless but a whole lot relieved. “How are you, mate?”

“Better than you.” She eyes him up, frowning. “What got all that religious talk out of you?”

“Just…y’know,” He shrugs, feeling sweat dampening his shirt. “Being my usual charming self.”

She chuckles, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “All right.”

“Are…you here alone?” Louis asks, taking in the grey shirt between her hands.

“Nah, my girl is with me…uh,” She stands on her tiptoes, trying to look through the window of the little clothing store.

Louis freezes. “Lara is here?” He asks before he can stop himself, she looks back at him, eyes narrowed.

“You know her?”

“Uhhh,” he draws out the sound, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah?”

Ivana swallows, fearful eyes lock with his and he is confused for a whole second before he remembers, it clicks, and he  _ understands _ .

“Look,” Ivana starts, hanging the top back, “I’m—”

“Ivy, you ready?” Lara chirps. She stops in her tracks when she sees Louis, then her face brightens and she smiles widely. “Oh, hi!”

“Hey love,” Louis greets, feeling Ivana’s pleading eyes on him. “Y’alright?”

“I’m grand.” Lara gives him a quick side-hug. “Is Harry around, too?”

“He…yeah, he is.” Louis replies. “I have no idea where, though.”

Lara sighs like she expected that. “Anyway, this is Ivana.” She smiles proudly at the blue haired girl, “My girlfriend.”

“Nice to uh…meet you, finally. Heard loads about you.” Louis forces his lips to curve upwards. “Love the hair.”

“Yeah, you too and thanks.” Ivana smiles at him tensely.

“You coming at the weekend right?” Lara chips obliviously into the awkward silence. “Of course you are, Haz is coming.” Her eyes twinkle with mirth.

He chuckles, then huffs. “Wherever he goes, I go.” He doesn’t feel embarrassed to admit it, but, he frowns. “Well, usually at least, no idea where I am, actually.”

Lara hums thoughtfully. “Forgot your phone…again?” She laughs, looping her arm around Ivana’s.

“Oh,” Louis blinks, patting his back pocket, “no, actually - hold on.”

He unlocks it, ignoring the missed calls and messages that seem to never stop coming through and goes to his contacts,  _ Bad Frog _ or  _ Frog _ …Louis isn’t sure if Harry took his normal phone with him but tries him anyway. When he’s not picking up, he tries the other phone number, chewing on his bottom lip as it dials.

“Where the hell are you?” Harry says as a greeting. “I’m  _ starving _ .”

“Ran into Lara.” Louis grins. “Where are  _ you _ ?”

“Uh, outside a pub called  _ Love-bites _ ,” Louis hears Harry’s smirk through the line, his cheek turn a bit hot as he says the name out loud, Lara nodding already, recognising the place.

“I guess, I’ll find my way.” Louis says. “Get me a pint.”

“On it,” Harry chuckles, “Hurry up.”

Louis hangs up, pocketing his phone. “You guys wanna come along?”

Ivana’s eyebrow twitches, he smiles toothily at her. She narrows her eyes.

“I don’t know, gotta be back for work soon, so rather…” Lara trails off, smiling bashfully and side-eyeing Ivana.

Louis understands. “Alright-o, so how’d I get to the pub, ladies?”

 

*    *    * 

 

After a round of hugs and goodbyes, see you soon and don’t get in trouble (ha, ha… _ ha _ , too late ladies, too late), he’s on his way. 

Louis keeps his shoulders down and relaxed, but his eyes flicker searching over the streets, looking through the people he passes, scanning all corners for Hawk’s face. 

He is nowhere to be seen and when Louis reaches the pub, he heaves a great sigh of relief. 

“Hey hot-shot,” Harry calls, grinning when they make eye contact.

Harry is sitting on a bench outside, two beers on the wooden table that’s placed in front of a milky window. Louis eyes the sign that presents the name of the pub, neon lights writing Love-Bites in a pink light, and next to it are red lips, also a neon-sign. The rest of the pub looks rustic and old, dark wood everywhere. He peeks inside before he sits down next to Harry, getting a glimpse of a wooden bar with an old grumpy looking barman behind. 

“Hey,” he says, kissing Harry’s cheek, “thanks for the beer.” His fingers curl around the sweating glass, gulping two heavy sips before placing it next to Harry’s half-empty one. The cool beer does his dry throat good, he sighs happily. 

“Thirsty?” Harry asks amused, slinging an arm around Louis' shoulder. He leans into the touch, finally feeling more safe now that he's with Harry. 

“Yep,” he says, thinking about his marathon run to the clothing store as he watches people walk past the pub. None of them are Hawk. 

Louis is safe, Louis is  _ safe _ . 

“How was it?” 

“Easy,” Louis shrugs, blinking out of his observation, resting his palm on Harry’s thigh, squeezing, “How about you?” 

Harry purses his lips. “Alright, yeah.” 

Louis’ eyes flitter over his face for any sight of lying, but as Harry just looks openly at him, smile still on his lips and forehead free from any crumbles, he lets it drop. 

“I ran into Lara,” Louis says, just to make some small talk, “uh, Ivana was with her?” 

“How are they?” Harry asks, brows pulling together in concern. 

“They seemed fine to me, but Ivana hasn’t told her, about…whatever that was that we saw.” 

Harry sighs sadly, “Lara will find out sooner or later.” 

Louis nods, taking another gulp of his cool beer. “Yeah, well we’re gonna go to the party at the weekend, right?” 

“Yup, we can crash at Liam’s, his roomie is already home by then.” 

Louis snorts. “I would be, too.” 

They sit a while in the shadows, drinking their beer and making some chit-chat about nothing specific. However it’s nice, just to be out in public. The heaviness of Harry’s arm slung around his shoulder is quite nice too and the warmth coming from Harry’s side where Louis leans against him is something that lets him breathe a little easier, allows him to forget the situation he was in just a short hour ago. 

Another thing that sets Louis’ skin pleasantly on fire is that everyone can  _ see _ them. People walk past them, not even glancing their way and if they do, they look away without changing their expression. There are no sneers sent at them or muttered words heard. 

Unnecessary to say, Louis isn’t used to this. He can’t speak for Harry, but he’s never been with a guy in the open, besides snogging random no-name-blokes at parties. He’s never had an arm slung around his shoulder like it’s a normal, casual, everyday thing. Just like on their date, it's nice, it’s so nice that Louis never wants this to end,  _ ever _ . 

“Is there anywhere else we have to be?” Louis breaks the silence between them, after they have finished their beers. 

Harry shakes his head, grinning. “Nope, we’ve got all afternoon just for us.” 

“I saw a record store on my way here, maybe we could check it out?” Louis purses his lips, pondering over the things they could waste their time with. What is there to do in Manchester, if it’s not selling drugs? Maybe Harry wants to visit his mum before they go home, maybe they could stop by the University and say hello to Liam, who’s probably busy, knowing him, he already got the books for his last semester and a nose already buried in the pages that won’t matter until after summer break. 

“Sounds good.” Harry agrees easily. “Though I still got all the money, so.” He blinks lazily at Louis, eyelashes catching the sunlight. 

Louis grimaces. “Right, right.” 

“Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Louis chuckles. “Maybe we can come back another time, when we’re not…” 

“Working.” Harry finishes for him and Louis nods. 

Work. Right, that reminds him… 

“Hold on a sec.” Louis lifts a finger and gets his phone out, hitting the call button. 

“Who are you calling?” Harry asks, pouting. Louis ignores him, listening to the annoying ‘beep’ that comes through the open line. 

“Hello my dear.” Nick answers, yawning loudly. “Is this revenge for me waking you up this morning?” 

Instantly, Louis feels anger flaming in his chest. He pinches the bridge of his nose, thumb and index rubbing slowly up and down. “Very funny, and fuck you.” Louis grits through his teeth, Harry frowns deeply, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. “What were you thinking?” 

There is a stunned silence at Louis’ harsh tone, then an unsure chuckle is heard. 

“What…are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about—” He stops himself, glancing at Harry, he tilts his head to the side and breathes out of his nose. Louis needed to talk about it with Harry anyway. “Listen, I don’t know how you can be such a smart student but be so daft to think you can pull this off. Hawk said hello, he’s in fucking Manchester.” 

Another silence follows, it makes Louis' ears ring and feel hot where it’s pressed against the phone, his free hand grips the edge of the wooden table, nails digging in. 

“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nick says slowly, Louis imagines him blinking just as lazily. Arsehole. “I always  _ pay _ for my  _ play _ .” 

“Well, just a heads up because I almost lost my life today.” He says, being dramatic like always, but it makes Harry draw in all the air, and he wishes he would think before speaking for once. 

“What happened? You said everything was fine.” Harry drawls. 

“Is this your new pet speaking?” Nick asks, ignoring everything else that Louis just said. 

“Are you listening?” 

“I am, but I don’t really see the problem.” 

Louis holds his breath, as nothing follows and the silence hangs between them. Louis rolls his head in his neck, frustrated not to be by Nick's side, just so he could hit him with something heavy, like…a book, a lamp or throw a chair at him. Maybe shave his head, Nick is pretty fond of his hair, so that would hurt more than any physical pain ever could. 

Then — 

“Whatever Louis, I will pay those dickheads back, don’t worry, no one will ruin my hair today.” 

Louis snorts at that. “I think they will ruin more than just your hair.” That said, Louis hangs up, knowing Grimmy won't take anything Louis said seriously. 

Harry sighs. “What was that about?” He cocks an expectant eyebrow. 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Louis says, avoiding the piercing green eyes. 

“You almost  _ lost _ your  _ life _ today?” Harry states, deadpan. “Yeah, sure nothing for  _ me _ to worry about.” 

Louis swallows. “I was being dramatic.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, huffing. 

“Just leave it, let’s go home.” 

“Whatever.” 

They pay separately this time and walk to the bread van mutely. Louis feels Harry’s eyes on him the whole way, like two daggers stabbing his back. The walk also helped to clear Louis' head and the anger he’d felt towards Nick just moments ago disappears into thin air when Harry unlocks the car and gets in, completely silent, not waiting for Louis to do the same, before starting the motor. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he gets into the passenger seat and the moment he closes the door, Harry pulls out of the parking lot way too fast, speeding down the street, although there is a lot of traffic, jumping lines and everything. They make it out of the city in no time, driving onto the motorway whilst the awkward silence hangs between them like thick smoke. Except, you can wave smoke away which doesn’t appear to happen to the tension. It stays and the longer they drive, the more it takes the air away in the small inside of the car. 

Harry passes three cars, honks four times and curses under his breath so much, that Louis’ lost count of the swear words that leave the lips Louis used to see curved up, that Louis can’t take it any longer.

That the pleasant and light mood from earlier puffed and never showed up, is alone his fault, after all. 

Inhaling the non-existent air into his lungs, he holds it there for another beat, pondering over his words in his mind before speaking, since the lack of thought bit him in the arse just half an hour ago. 

“So.” He begins, scratching his chin and risking a quick glance at Harry before directing his attention to his lap where his folded hands lay, just like a boy in school that has been chastised by the teacher. 

“So.” Harry echoes as Louis doesn’t offer anything else. 

Clearing his throat, Louis shifts in his seat, pulling at his neckline and fussing with his fringe before getting the words out. “Firstly, I am sorry for not telling you about…what happened.” He thinks this is a good start. “Secondly, I really was being dramatic with the whole thing, and I apologise for worrying you.” 

“You sound very mature, when did that happen?” Harry remarks, but there is a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, so Louis chooses to ignore the sarcastic comment and continues with his little explanation. 

“I was just done with the drug deal, the weed guy, yeah?” Louis averts his eyes on his lap again. “And then, out of nowhere, Hawk showed up. And, like, he is from London, so. It was all a bit confusing why he was here and…” Louis swallows, trailing off. 

“Wait, how d’you know Hawk?” Harry asks, “I know he’s from London, but I thought…you got your drugs from Zayn?” 

“I did.” Louis says. “Zayn was my drug dealer, but, like, sometimes…” He inhales, oh god, why can’t he just say it, why is it so, so hard to get those words out, when it’s just Harry he’s it saying it to? “Sometimes, I got a bit reckless? I don’t know…really, how to explain that part? Like, I’d just…piss other dealers off…and  _ Hawk _ was one of them.” This really sounds bad, even to his own ears.

“ _ Why? _ ”

Louis can’t bring himself to look at Harry, so he closes his lids. His hands fidget with the hem of his shirt. “I just…I was angry.” He fumbles, breathing quicker than usual, a bit desperate for air, the car suddenly feels too small. “I was very, very angry at everything, really.” 

“So, you got into fights with drug dealers? Of all people?” Harry exclaims. The way Harry says it makes Louis wince inwardly. This really does sound stupid. 

“Kind of…” Louis shrugs, adding a nervous laugh. “I never fought back with my body, I just rile them up a bit. Could never bite my tongue.” Harry snorts at that, and Louis ignores him. “But they fought back with their body and like beat me up and…yeah, I mean you already know that Zayn got me out of trouble more times than I could possibly count. So, there you have it. That’s how I know Hawk and apparently he’s in Manchester now and…I don’t really know  _ why _ , he didn’t say.” 

There is no comment from Harry and Louis gets anxious with the silence so he rambles on. “Yeah, well. And he, like, he tried to push me on the street? Or punch me? I’m no mind reader so I can’t tell his exact thoughts, but like…I bet it was something that would hurt since…Nick is one of my friends and—” Louis blinks, remembering. “Oh, right!” He exclaims, “Nick didn’t pay and Hawk’s punishment is to…be in Manchester? Or like he’s sent away from London and yeah.” 

Harry takes one of his trembling hands in his own, squeezing. When Louis glances over, Harry’s frown still is there, deep lines carving into his forehead. 

“I haven’t heard about him being here, yet.” Harry mutters somberly. “I don’t like this.” 

“It seems a tad weird, innit?” 

“It does.” 

“So, yeah I burned him with my cig and ran away — that’s how I found Lara and Ivana.” 

Harry hums his answer, eyes directed on the street again, but his hand keeps holding onto Louis' own so maybe they are good again. 

Louis doesn’t want to fight with Harry, like… _ ever _ . 

“I’ll call Zayn and ask what this is about.” Harry says, turning off the motorway and pulling into town. “Maybe he knows.” 

Louis nods, thinking, there is nothing more Harry could do anyway. 

 

*    *    * 

 

“Louis, why are you in Macclesfield?” Harry asks, cheek pillowed on his palm. 

“I told you.” Louis says, rolling onto his side so he can look at Harry. He tugs at the tips of his hair, smiling when Harry wrinkles his nose. 

“Because your parents want you to become straight.” Harry says monotonously. Louis’ smile slips and he stays silent under the intense searching stare. “But you came out to them after you graduated.” 

Louis can’t tell where Harry is going with this, so he nods, chewing on his lip.

“That was a year ago.” 

“Harry…” Louis sighs. “Just say what you want to say.” 

“Why have they waited until now to send you here? If they’ve known you’re gay for a full year?” 

Whatever, Louis can trust Harry, he knows that now. It’s no secret either, Louis wonders why it took so long for him to come around and open up about this very part of his life. He’s hinted at it plenty and maybe Harry lets him get to the point where he’s wanted to tell the story through his own choice, without pushing or pressing the topic. Which is a very nice thing to do, and now that Hawk is just in the next city, it feels like a good time to reveal that part of his life fully. 

Louis slides his back down the headboard until his head is resting on a pillow and is not awkwardly angled anymore. 

“You can tell me.” Harry coaxes. “There isn’t anything you can’t trust me with, you know that.” 

“I know,” Louis breathes, smiling sadly. If they weren’t so fucked up, just some Uni students, this whole thing would be so easier, just…to be with each other. However, it is what it is. “After I came out to my…parents, my mother didn’t acknowledge the fact that I’m gay.” He swallows, directing his gaze at the ceiling, even when he can feel the pair of beautiful green eyes resting on him, giving him full attention. This way it’s easier to get the words out, though, so. 

“She never mentioned it, pretended I never said a thing. Like she’s planned out my entire future from the moment I was born. Her and my grandpa — her dad, they planned this. When my mother retires, I’d take over the company. Since I was little, I used to go with her or my grandpa, while Lottie already had her plan to save lives and all, they trained me a little bit, gave me paperwork and such,” He wrinkles his nose. “Anyway, they planned my  _ whole _ future, I never had to think twice because back then I wanted that too. Taking over and leading the company to an entirely new level. But then…I came out, and my mother didn’t say anything and I started questioning my existence. University started and every single class bored me to death. I dropped out and went to my first party ever. That’s where I met Nick.” He grins at the memory. 

“I started doing drugs, smoking, drinking, and shagging random blokes. I pretended I was still in Uni, said something about a study group to ditch my mother in the office and just…yeah.” He shrugs. “That’s it. I became reckless, I was angry at myself for ruining everything, I was angry at my mother for being so unsupportive and I needed a kick. I was very depressed at the time. I lost everything, you know? I didn't know what to do anymore. When I thought about my future, I drew a blank. So, I just…took drugs to forget that I had no idea what to do with my life. I guess when that wasn’t enough anymore I got into those petty fights. I loved winding them up and I loved the pain and the adrenaline and all that.” 

“How did th—” Louis cuts Harry off, already knowing what he wants to ask.

“It was such a stupid thing.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Nick crashed the car, all my friends and I were on coke and drunk, we stole that car too, police came and we ended up in jail, my parents found out, and—” He waves a nonchalant hand in the air. “Here we are. It all came out: that I dropped out of Uni, that I’ve done drugs this whole time and went to parties with people my parents would never ever approve of, or my mother more like. However, they already let me drop before but that night, they were just done with my bullshit, and a week later or so, they sent me here.” It doesn’t hurt anymore like it did before, now there is just a little tingle in the back of his head, like a reminder. Looking back now, he’s doing better in some aspects of his life. He doesn’t want to die anymore and even though he’s still doing drugs, it comes from a different feeling now. He doesn’t want to forget or lose himself, he just wants to have fun. Though, he knows there are still triggers that can pull all that self-hate up on the surface, like that dream, like Zayn leaving, his mother calling, Lottie’s careful eyes. All those things are a stark reminder that even when he feels okay right now — laying in bed with Harry — he is truly not quite there yet. 

“I never had dreams like you.” Louis continues after a moment. “I never had a passion or anything. I never even thought about it, you know?” He blinks slowly, sleepy. “My future was planned out and I never questioned it.” 

“This is no way to live.” Harry finally replies, pulling Louis close and cupping his cheeks, his eyes fierce even in the low light of the moon that filters the room in a cold glow. “I am so, so sorry. I never would’ve—” He stops himself, licking his lips, he tries again, sighing. “I thought you were a spoilt brat when you first came into town, then Zayn started talking about you being a party boy and all that and it fit so well to my thoughts about you that I chose to believe that.” He wrinkles his nose, “But hearing what you went through hurts my heart.” 

“A golden cage is still just a cage.” Louis recalls a quote he’s read somewhere. It’s been a while and he never thought about it more than now. The words stuck for a reason after all. “I think deep inside me I knew that it all wasn’t what I really wanted. But then, I wanted to make my mother proud and suddenly she wasn’t proud anymore, though I still did the things she wanted me to do, like going to the office and studying. She wasn’t proud of that, because I’m gay and that little fact about myself changed her whole…way of thinking about me.” He shrugs, “It shouldn’t, but that’s the truth and I really, really don’t want to go back to my old life anymore.” 

They look at each other in the eyes, searching. Then, like someone said, ‘ _ go _ ’, they both lean forward, lips smashing together in a passionate kiss that leaves no air in their lungs and no thoughts in their minds. Their tongues meet and their souls dance to their matching heartbeats and Louis thinks, this feeling, this warm feeling inside of him, he wants to keep it forever. He doesn’t want to ever let go of it. 

They snog until their lips are raw and puffy and then it turns to lazily exchanged kisses, finger trailing over bare skin and soft smiles sent at each other. 

They spend the rest of the night just like that, hidden under sheets that keep them safe, whispered promises that lick both of their scars and wounds, and kisses that heal their shattered hearts. 

Both of them fall asleep only then, when the firsts rays of sunlight beam through the window, their bodies tangled with each other, chest against back, arms solid around the other one, and legs a mess of flesh, covers, and warmth. 

“I won’t ever let you go.” Is the last thing Louis hears, before sleep pulls him into a soft blackness. 

 

***    *    ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave kudos and/or a comment if you liked it, that'd be super lovely!*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday, enjoy reading! :) xxxx

 

***    *    ***

 

“Lou!” Harry giggles breathlessly as Louis covers his face with kisses. “I can’t call Z-Za—” He laughs, squirming beneath Louis to get away from the tickling fingers.

Louis laughs, biting Harry’s neck playfully. “That can wait.” He growls lowly, grinning when Harry brushes his fringe off his forehead.

“Yeah?” Harry’s eyes are sparkling as he cups Louis' neck, drawing him closer, maintaining eye contact.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers before their lips seal and where his fingers had just been dancing over Harry’s shirt, they now dig in his sides as he moans deeply in his throat. He slots his thigh between Harry’s legs, rolling his hips down.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Harry warns, withdrawing, licking his lips slowly.

“We don’t need a lot of time.” Louis grins toothily before kissing Harry’s collarbones.

They spend the rest of the morning hidden beneath the covers, branding words into their flushed skin and fingers drawing patterns on each others backs. Tasting each other, breathing each other in, holding onto their own little piece of heaven.

Minutes turn to hours and hours turn into the midday sun beaming through the window, illuminating the room in an enchanting glow neither of them wants to miss out on.

They only let up from each other when Harry’s work phone rings the third time in a row.

While Harry takes the call, padding out of the bedroom wearing only the shortest of briefs, Louis rolls onto his side, feeling happy and lax in the sheets. He checks his own phone; there are a lot of new messages, but none from Nick and he doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. He sure hopes Nick is busy partying his arse off, not in the hospital because he’s been beaten up.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Harry checked in with Zayn after their late lunch explaining the situation with Hawk and the nice little chit-chat Louis had with Nick. Zayn informed them that he didn’t know about the change of location but would keep an ear open for any news.

They can’t ask for more.

On Tuesday, they went to see Anne again, and to Louis’ surprise she greeted him like a long lost son, wrapping him in a bear hug and only letting go when Harry whined about her being embarrassing with her kisses to Louis' head and cheek. Louis didn’t mind, he just hugged her closer and pushed the question as to why his own mum couldn’t hug him like that to the back of his mind.

Also, Louis finally met Gemma. She floated into the room like some Disney princess with pink hair and big green eyes. He liked her the moment she made a joke about Harry being all doe-eyed when Louis spoke. They teamed up against Harry, roasting him for his awful puns and jokes and before Gemma left, she pulled him aside, thanking him for making her brother happy. Louis told her that was bullshit, that Harry was happy before he met him, but she just smiled at him and shrugged.

It’s weird because even Lara seemed to get used to the idea of them being together and when they hung out on Thursday, she would send him the biggest smiles or half-moon eyes whenever Louis would do as much as touch Harry or the other way around.

Louis is glad that the dislike of them being ‘together’ is over and the others (also Liam, since he said it's a stupid idea, but Harry shut him up with a glare and it took only took one word for Liam to give in, that word being ‘Zayn’ and, well) got used to it to the point that they call them out on it, telling them to get a room, only to be reminded by Harry that this is his house and if they don’t want to see some tongue-action (his words) between them they are free to leave.

They didn’t go to Manchester again during the week. They stayed in Macclesfield, going for walks with Travis and doing some smaller deals with Bianca and Stoner-Face. They went to the Diner on Wednesday and hung out with Liam, Niall, and Lara on Thursday and Friday.

Louis went home, checking in with Lottie in the afternoon…at least that's what he wanted to do, but he’d found the house empty. Tommy and Lottie were away for work and it left Louis a little bit cold though it was his own fault.

He took his phone with him, texted Lottie that he was well and she apparently didn’t mind him being gone for a couple of days when he informed her that they were going to clean out Liam’s dorm.

However, all of that leads to Louis sitting on a shabby sofa in a run-down flat that belongs to someone Louis has heard the name of, but still has no idea who it actually is. When they arrived, fashionably late of course, there were already so many people that they stayed unnoticed in the mass at first. Word got around fast, however, and after they helped themselves to some drinks, the first buyers tapped them on the shoulders, grins in place and promising money outstretched. So far it had all gone smoothly, no trouble whatsoever. They sell, get paid, and in between they dance, drink some more and mingle until they find their way back to each other. Like Lara promised, it's the biggest party of the year and Louis is pleasantly tipsy, sweaty and abundantly happy.

There are people everywhere, drunkenly dancing, puking their souls out in the bathroom, having hopefully safe sex in the bedroom or snogging against a wall. Everyone helped themselves to something cool to drink. Some play spin the bottle, others play a weird card game where they stick cards to their heads - whatever, they seem to know what the hell they’re doing. And, of course, a classic — Beer-Pong. Louis watches as a girl fails by a mile and the white little ball hits some bloke in the back of his head. He snorts when the guy slurs some weak arse insult at her, all whilst the girl giggles out an apology.

“You still have pills left?” Harry asks, sitting down next to Louis and throwing an arm around Louis’ shoulder, tucking him close to his side. He leans automatically into the touch. “I ran out but some creep keeps following me like a lost puppy, it’s getting annoying.” Harry huffs, two fingers walking across Louis’ shoulder.

Louis frowns at that. “Who is it?” Harry points to a bunch of people gathered together, Louis rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Now I totally know.” He says, deadpan. Harry wiggles his fingers in his neck, Louis giggles at the tickling, squirming away.

Harry presses a kiss to his temple. “The bloke who’s talking to the girl wearing a fedora, you idiot. C’mon, he’s been looking our way the whole time.” He murmurs in Louis’ ear.

Louis finds the guy Harry is talking about and purses his lips when he meets the stare of him, quickly looking back at Harry, raising a brow. “He seems creepy, we should save the girl.”

Harry snorts. “Right, I really like her fedora, though.”

Looking at them again, Louis notices the girl is alone now. The guy has disappeared and Louis suppresses a relieved sigh. Hopefully he’s found someone else to annoy or had enough, smelling that Harry won’t sell and Louis will refuse, weirdos on drugs never ends well.

“I think the hat would suit you.” Louis decides with a curt nod of his head. “Better than her, I’m sure.”

“You think so?” Harry grins, “I think she looks lovely with it.”

“I know so.” Louis affirms. There isn’t anything that wouldn’t fit Harry, he’s just that kind of person that looks good in anything, or, well,  _ nothing _ at all. Louis likes Harry naked best of all.

“So you want that hat?” Louis asks again, bringing his thoughts back to the present and away from the distracting image of Harry spread out naked on the sheets. He purses his lips. “I’ll steal it for you.”

“You wouldn’t.” Harry grins, obviously not catching on to Louis’ serious tone. Louis raises a challenging eyebrow. Harry’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You  _ wouldn’t _ .” He says again, this time his voice has lost its playfulness.

“Wanna bet?” Louis grins. The idea is brilliant, really. He untangles himself from under Harry’s arm, but frowns when Harry draws him back in.

“Louis.” He chuckled, unbelieving. “I won't let you do that.”

“Well, why not?” Louis pouts. “You want that hat, I'll get you that hat.”

“It's a fedora,” Harry says, matter-of-factly, Louis rolls his eyes. “And I want a fedora  _ like _ that, not  _ hers _ .”

“Hi ladies,” Lara plops down on Harry’s lap, dropping her legs on Louis’ thighs, “Enjoying yourselves? You look like an old married couple, it’s disgusting.” She wrinkles her nose, but her brown eyes twinkle in good measure. “What's got you pouting like a child, Lou-lou?”

“He wants to steal the girl’s fedora.” Harry scoffs. “I'm trying to talk him out of it. Tell Lou it’s a  _ bad _ idea.”

“It’s a good idea!” Louis says blithely, “Honestly.”

“Which girl?” Lara asks, interest sparked.

Louis' lips stretch to a winning grin as he points to the girl with brunette hair and a black fedora on top. “You know her?” He asks, casually, for no reason at all, obviously.

“No.” Lara draws the word out, and when she looks at Louis again there is a mischievous expression on her face. She cocks an eyebrow in daring. “I bet I can steal it before you get your hands on it.”

Louis lights up. Harry groans.

“Am I the only  _ sane _ person here? You guys can’t do that.”

Lara and Louis ignore him, levelling each other up.

“You’re on.” They say in unison. Lara scrambles off Harry's lap and Louis gets to his feet.

“You'll fail.” Harry says sternly, but his act breaks as an amused smile steals itself on his lips.

“So little faith in me.” Louis muses, lifting his brows. “Hm, kiss for luck?”

Harry purses his lips for a peck.

“Will I get a kiss too?” Lara asks, hands on Louis' shoulders. “C’mon, Harry kiss me too!”

“Fuck off Lara.” Louis says, shoving at her sides to get her to move. He hears Harry's laugh following them until they're in the middle of the dance floor, winding their way through the crowd until they reach the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Both of them are eyeing the girl who's obliviously talking to another girl, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces.

Louis pulls absently on his bottom lip.

“I’ll just flirt with her.” Lara states and for a moment Louis had forgotten she was still next to him. Blinking, he looks at her.

“Maybe I'll flirt with her first.” Louis says. He can't lose this.

Lara snorts. “Do you even know how to flirt with a girl?”

“I sell drugs, remember?” Louis lifts his brows, “Besides, it's not any different from flirting with a guy, is it?”

Lara bobs her head. “Right, guess not.”

“You go first, I wanna see your loser face when she rejects you.” He smiles sweetly at her. Lara slaps his chest.

“Just watch, you nut.” Lara winks then she's ambling over to the two girls, pointing at the cup in their targets hand and putting on a sickly angelic smile.

The moment the brunette girl’s attention is fixed on Lara, laughing at something probably not funny she said, Louis makes a beeline, rounding the group carefully, so as not to be noticed as he steps behind them and next to a desk with empty bottles placed on it.

The target giggles, beautifully distracted. However, Lara spots him over the girl's shoulder, making eye contact and crooking a brow, as if to say she's already won the bet.

Well, she is wrong.

Louis hops onto the tables surface, tiptoeing around the bottles. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as the tip of his shoe almost kicks one. He gulps, turning slowly to not lose balance and leans forward, hand hovering over the girl's head, fingers stretching to reach out and snatch the hat. However, just when his fingertips make contact, Lara pulls the girl in, out of Louis' safe space.

She smirks at him, as he sways back in place. Brushing his hair off his forehead with a frustrated huff, he flips her off.

Fuck.

So, the table wasn't his best idea. No backing out now, he muses, that'd be embarrassing. He tries again, shuffling to the edge and leaning forward.

Lara is quick to react and by the mischievous look she sends him, he already knows that she’s planning something.

“Guys!” She suddenly yells, cupping her mouth to be heard over the music. To his horror, she's not only addressing their victim or the group she's standing with, but the entire fucking room. His face pales. “I think my friend Louis here has something to say!” She points at him with an evil smile.

Well shit. Louis gulps, shooting her a glare. She just gives a half-shrug and pulls the girl close to her side, both of them facing him, and so is basically everyone else that's present in the room. There are cheers going around when the DJ catches on and turns down the music a tad.

Louis straightens his spine, cursing under his breath before plastering a cheerful smile onto his heated face. “Right.” He starts, licking his lips, eyes flickering over the crowd until they land on Harry. “I just wanted to say a thanks to our saviour Aiden...” At the familiar name the group cheers loudly, so Louis waits until they're calm again before continuing, “Thanks mate for letting us get shitfaced in your flat!”

He sees Harry giggle from his spot on the sofa. It encourages him to go on, his voice stronger now, “Thank you for that, and for the free buzz that our broken arses couldn't afford, obviously.” He earns more chuckles and Harry hoots loudly. Louis grins. “To Aiden, to free booze and to the end of the bloody semester! Let’s forget it ever happened. Kill the memory with more alcohol! Cheers!” He fist-bumps the air for good measure and giggles when someone mimics him before the DJ turns the music back up and the interest in Louis is lost.

He winks at Harry, who shakes his head fondly like he can't believe Louis and then he's back at the task at hand.

The girls still look at him when he faces them again.

“I don't think we know each other?” The girl says grinning widely when Louis jumps off the table and steps towards them. “I'm Mandy.”

Louis throws a smug look Lara's way who looks like a disturbed kitten, and grins sharply at Mandy. “I'm Louis, nice to meet you.” When they shook hands he adds, “I  _ really _ like your fedora.”

Lara snorts. Mandy smiles brightly in delight.

Take that, Lara, take that. Louis thinks gleefully.

“Oh, thank you!” Mandy says, touching said hat. “So, you guys are friends?” She looks between Lara and Louis.

“Best buddies, friends for life.” Louis is quick to respond, “ _ thieves _ at best. Partners in  _ crime _ .” He pulls Lara under his arm, she pinches his side, trying to stifle her giggle with her wrist.

Mandy glances from one to the other, her forehead twitching in confusion. “That's nice.” She says, probably to be polite.

Louis grins sharply. “Isn't that a friend of yours?” He asks causally, pointing over Mandy’s shoulder at the blank wall, already untangling himself from Lara. When she turns, he snatches the hat and before anyone can react, he's dashing back into the mass.

“Hey!” Mandy yells. “He stole my fedora!”

“Oh whoops.” He giggles crashing into someone, leaving them behind and searching for the best escape. Someone tries to grab him but he shakes them off.

Louis giggles, feeling a familiar presence behind him. He reaches out blindly, taking Lara’s hand in his as the front door comes in view.

“You're nuts.” Lara laughs as they slip through the door and run down the hallway, away from the blaring music. “You actually did it!”

They come to a much needed halt, a safe distance away from the flat, one level under.

“Fuck.” Louis breathes, a giddy smile on his lips and his win literally on top of his head. “ _ He stole my fedora! _ ” He mimics her high voice. Lara snorts a laugh, doubling over and clenching her stomach.

“That was fun.” Lara pants, wiping tears off her cheek. “Damn.”

“I hate you, you made me give a fucking speech.” Louis groans, “And,” he adds holding up his index finger for importance. “You didn't use the opportunity to get the bloody hat. Mate I'm disappointed.” He rolls his eyes, patting the hat as it slips on his forehead.

Lara sighs, taking the fedora and putting it on her own head, grinning. “I actually enjoyed talking to her.”

Louis' eyebrows jump to his hairline in surprise. “Yeah?” He blinks. Her smile falters as she shrugs, avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Lara, where is-”

“Went home.” Lara says, swallowing thickly. She smiles, but it seems forced. “What can I do? I can't make her stay when she's whining about being tired and…” She trails off, shrugging again. “It's whatever, really.” She rambles on after a moment of silence, “It's fine.”

Louis hums, having no idea what to say to that.

“She's just.” Lara groans, adjusting her new accessory. “You know what? I don't wanna talk about her anymore.” She inhales deeply, plastering another smile on her face, looking at him one eye clenched shut.

This would be the moment that Louis should have the most comforting words on the tip of his tongue, ready to smooth his friend’s worries and bring out a real smile.

However, Louis has no words that could make it better. Only worse, if that. So, for the first time he stays mute, taking in her crestfallen expression and nervous chewing of her lip.

This simply won't do.

Louis can't let his friend be sad.

Where words fail, actions are needed.

So, he attacks her, tackling her to the ground and mercilessly tickling her sides until she lets out another round of giggles and honked laughter.

Success.

Louis wins, sadness loses. Take that.

He tickles her until she fights back, her grin so huge he can count her teeth. They wrestle on the floor, the moment one of them has the upper hand the other one finds a new method to fight back. Louis laughs as Lara sticks her wet finger in his ear, and rolls onto his back, panting and crying out for mercy.

“Stop, stop you win, you win!” He chuckles, chest rising and falling. He stretches out his arms on the floor.

“Good,” Lara grins widely, “That's karma.”

Louis pouts, “What did I do?”

“You successfully got us kicked out of the biggest party of the year because you wanted that bloody hat more than free booze.”

“Oh fuck.” Louis giggles as realisation dawns on him. “How the hell do we get back in?”

“We won't.” Lara sighs in self-pity. “I hate you.”

“That's not the spirit.” Louis frowns. “I want Harry.” He muses and grabs the hat that fell off Lara's head during their tickle-fight. He puts it on his face, blinking against the darkness. “Hmpf.” He puts it on his stomach, rolling his head until he catches Lara’s eye.

The corner of his mouth twitches as an idea blooms in his mind.

“No, you've done enough today.” Lara says in warning. “No more ideas from you.”

He ignores her, getting to his feet and brushing off dust from his trousers. “You wanna get back in or not?” He cocks an expectant eyebrow.

“Fine.” She sighs, long and suffering, holding her hand towards him. He blinks at her; she frowns. “C’mon help me up, dickhead.”

He turns.

“Lou!”

“See you, Lara, find your own way in.”

He hears her mutter something and grins to himself as he hears her shoes slap against the floor a second later. She passes him with a thrown “race you!” as she dashes past him.

Louis rolls his eyes but catches up to her on the stairs, sticking out his tongue as he reaches the top level first. She slaps his side and he shoves at her shoulder.

“Hello,  _ children _ .”

They stop slapping each other's shoulders and look at the person in unison.

“Does that make you're a paedophile since you're fucking this one?” Lara thumbs at Louis, an outraged noise coming out of his mouth at that comment.

“Disgusting. I’ll pretend I didn't hear that.” Harry wrinkles his nose.

“Fucking him is dis-”

Louis covers her big mouth with his palm. “Don't, Lara, just don't.” He shakes his head, slowly. “You’re just mad because you lost.” She pouts as he lets his hand fall again and winks at her. “That’s what I call a sore loser.” He sticks out his tongue.

“Harry, please tell us a way to get back inside without someone noticing.” Lara says.

Harry kisses Louis' forehead. “I can't believe you guys.” He says, fondly. “You stole that hat.”

“ _ Fedora _ .” Lara chirps in from behind Louis.

Louis grins up at Harry, placing the hat on top of Harry's mop of hair. He tugs on loose strands, “See, suits you better than her.”

“Does that mean I'm getting a free  _ hat _ ?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows, smirking. Louis snorts, hiding his face on Harry's chest.

“Y’know what?  I'll find my way in without you  _ disgusting _ people.” Lara says. “See you!”

“It's safe to go back in, the girl left.” Harry says as they're alone in the hallway, “I think she made a search party out of it.”

Louis shakes his head. “So the police aren't on their way?”

Harry narrows his eyes. “This would end badly, since you still have your pockets filled with candy.”

“Oh.” Louis had totally forgotten about that, “What about you?”

“Only some weed.” Harry shrugs, tugging him in direction of the dorm.

“Actually, we could share the weed with Niall and Liam, right?”

Harry laughs.

“What's so funny?”

“I don't think Niall is interested in weed tonight.”

Louis frowns. “That doesn't sound like the Irish lad I know, are we talking about the same Niall here?”

Harry lips twitch to a smile, “We are. He's just-” He doesn't finish, and really Harry doesn't have to because the moment they re-enter the flat, they find Niall snogging some bird against the wall next to the kitchen door.

Louis blinks, then smirks at Harry.

“What are you planning?” Harry cocks an eyebrow.

Louis shrugs. “Nothing,” he says smiling innocently.

“Whatever it is, don't.”

“You're no fun tonight.” Louis pouts.

“I'm not?” Harry mimics his expression, widening his eyes. Louis catches his bottom lip between his fingers, moving it up and down.

“I wanna do something fun.” Louis says. “We’re at the biggest party of the year after all.”

Harry bites Louis' index. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Hm-mh.”

“Is this a new way that people communicate these days?”

Louis snorts, freeing his finger from Harry's sharp bunny teeth and turns toward a bloke with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Apparently.” Louis says, “hm, hm.”

The guy grins, humming back at him.

“I'll get us some drinks.” Harry mutters, giving the guy an odd look and before Louis can protest, Harry turns on his heels, striding in the kitchen, ruffling Niall’s hair as he passes. The couple jumps apart and Niall yells something after Harry that's swallowed by the music.

“You're the madman who ran into me.” The blonde says, trying to bring Louis’ attention back to him.

“Sorry?” Louis frowns, eyes darting to the doorway of the kitchen then back to the friendly smiling face.

“Yeah, bumped right into me. I caught you before you fell. Remember?”

Louis blinks. “I was on the run, I can't even remember how I found the exit.”

“Oh.” The student says, taken aback or something. Louis isn't sure since his mind spins around the fact that Harry isn't back by his side yet. “Well, I'm Felix.”

“Alright Felix, I better be-” Louis thumbs over his shoulder, “on my way, but nice to meet you, mate, thanks for lending your chest and all, probably saved my arse from Mandy.” He smiles briefly and turns, though he sees Felix open his mouth to respond.

Whatever, they're at a party, whatever that guy had to say he can tell another person.

Louis checks the kitchen and finds Lara talking to a girl he doesn't recognise. He can’t see Harry, turning to search the dance floor and as he glances at the sofa, he frowns. There is no curly head or fedora in sight.

Well, he isn’t enjoying this game of hide and seek. Licking his lips, he catches no green eyes but instead finds blue ones looking at him. Felix raises his beer towards him mouthing ‘ _ cheers _ ’.

Right.

Louis is in no mood to make friends.

Before Felix gets a chance to waste more of Louis' time, he ambles to the balcony, craving fresh air and wondering if Harry needed some too.

Stepping outside, he closes the door behind him and sighs in defeat. The night air is so good, cooling down his sweaty skin and brushing his damp fringe out of his eyes. However he's the only one on the balcony, and he was sure Harry just went for a smoke.

_ Where the hell is he?  _ Louis wonders, leaning over the railing. It’s the third level, not that high but he wouldn’t want to jump from here either. Whatever, when Harry is ready to show himself, he'll come and find Louis. He is done with the game for now.

Breathing in, Louis relaxes. Manchester looks like London at night with all the twinkling lights.

He twists his bottom lip between thumb and pointer finger, enjoying the calm view for another second before getting his cigarette from behind his ear, lighting it.

The door swings open when he takes the first drag. Louis spins around, only for his shoulders to hunch even further.

“Hey mate.” Liam greets, stepping beside him.

“Hi, y’alright?” Louis says, exhaling the smoke in the dark of the night, facing the city and ignoring the disappointment that washes over him.

“Fine.” Liam huffs, not looking Louis' way, missing the unbelieving raised eyebrow.

“Okay.” Louis blinks, knowing Liam, he will spill in just a second.

“S’just…I  _ miss _ Zayn.” Liam admits with a quiet voice. “Even last year when he was in London he came to the party.” He shrugs. “Ah, ‘s stupid I know he’s probably busy.”

Louis offers a smile around his fag, blowing smoke out of his nose like a bull, he rubs Liam’s shoulders in hopefully comforting manners. “I miss him, too.” Louis says. It’s not the same, Louis understands, but still.

“I can’t do shit from here, I can’t be with him if he needs me. I can’t… _ protect _ him.” Liam scrunches his nose, rolling his eyes at himself and heaving a great sigh.

Louis wants to laugh at that, because if someone can hold his own, it’s Zayn. He’s way too high up in the ranks for anyone trying to do anything besides the eldest, who usually mind their own business, too cool to get into trouble for their ‘ _ Runners _ ’. Zayn is more than a Runner, Louis found out. Zayn has a bit of power in London. Not that much, but enough for him to get out of the most desperate situations.

At least the last time he was with Zayn, ambling through the streets, everyone basically bowed their fucking heads when King Zayn walked past them. As they should, in Louis' opinion.

Louis isn’t sure if it’s still the same, after Zayn hid out in Manchester and all. He sure hopes it is.

Instead of telling Liam not to worry, he makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. Since he and Harry started being more than friends, Louis feels uneasy every bloody time Harry goes solo to deals, though he knows Harry is an expert by now.

Liam cares so much about Zayn, just like Louis cares about Harry.

Louis himself would scoff when somebody would tell him not to worry about the only boy that’s able to make his heart race, so he doesn’t offer the phrase ‘ _ don’t worry, he’ll be fine _ ’ to Liam either like he’d have done just four weeks prior.

“You want some snow?” Louis asks instead. “It’s the best help I can give you.”

It’s also Louis’ way to deal with problems.

Liam smiles, brown eyes reflecting the lights.

“Yeah, two lines should be good.”

“Great, there’s a good boy.” Louis grins, tossing his finished cigarette over the railing and fishing a little pack of coke out of his jeans.

Liam gives him the money and claps him on the shoulder with a quiet ‘ _ thank you _ ’ before he’s leaving Louis alone outside.

Louis hums, craving making his throat itch and his fingers twitch at his sides.

He hasn’t done cocaine the whole week, no idea how he got through. He’s also not taking painkillers anymore and he can feel the difference.

Headaches, shaky hands, restlessness that makes it hard to sit still or concentrate. He can’t sleep, everything he eats tastes weird and when Harry has fallen asleep in his arms, he lays awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to stay put, not to jump out of bed and looking in every corner of the house for coke, pills, alcohol, or morphine.

It’s easier when Harry is awake, when Harry is pliant under his fingers and moaning in his mouth, or telling the weirdest jokes just to make Louis laugh.

Maybe, Louis thinks, Harry knows.

This is a party though, everyone is doing coke, everyone is on some sort of pills. It’s all their doing, they sold most of the stuff, kept the gang happy and upbeat.

Maybe Harry wouldn’t mind, if Louis took a line or two, just like Liam. Besides, Harry isn't here at the moment anyway, right?

Louis hasn’t done ecstasy in ages, he thinks, as his fingers snatch a couple of packs out of his pockets. He can make out the strong hemp smell from the weed, without opening the little plastic pack. But he is not in the mood to go to sleep just yet, although maybe he could do that tomorrow night. Harry has nothing against weed; he uses it too, so.

Louis stops in his tracks then. Since when…

He blinks, his whole body stiffening. Since  _ when _ does he give a  _ fuck _ if someone has a problem with him doing drugs?

When Harry met him, he took drugs, he took them in front of the green eyes.

Why is it so different now?

Why hasn’t Louis gotten high in over a week?

Why does he want to change anyway when all he gets in return is sleepless nights with racing, never ending thoughts?

He doesn’t want that, he wants to have fun and forget.

His toes curl inside his shoes.

Harry is changing him…and Louis is letting him. He tries to be good, tries to find some relief in the smile that Harry gives him in the morning after a long and depressing night.

The craving hits him like a punch in the guts, he feels cold sweat spreading over his whole body.

He bites the inside of his cheek, worryingly glancing into the living room, seeing nothing but students having fun.

Still no goddamn sign of Harry, also Lara or Liam. Niall must still be here too, if he hasn’t already fucked off with that bird he snogged earlier.

So…if everyone is having fun, why can’t he?

Pursing his lips, moving them from left to right. Louis makes his decision with a grand inhale. Slipping back inside, he avoids looking at anyone, however, someone holds him back just before he reaches the bathroom.

“Louis.” Lara grins, “I’m leaving, Ivana called.”

Louis swallows, nervousness making his heart flutter though it's just Lara. “That's, uh, great.” He gets out and forces a smile on his lips.

“You okay? Where is Harry?” She asks, eyes narrowing in concern. Fuck.

“Oh, I actually don't know? I was just…” Louis takes a step back, “on my way to the loo, have you checked the balcony? Maybe he's having a smoke?”

Lara purses her lips. “When you see him, tell him I won't be driving back to Macclesfield tomorrow with you guys.”

Louis clears his throat, hoping she won't look down and call him out. “Will do.”

“Are you sure you're good because your eyes are doing this weird thing.”

“My eyes are perfectly fine and so am I, now off you go to your girlfriend, have fun and tell her hi from me, eh?” Louis ruffles Lara’s hair and before she can figure out what he's up to, he turns, striding towards the bathroom, the pack of coke tightly held in his hand.

He opens the door but swallows the sigh of relief as he takes in the scene in front of him. He blinks as Harry continues talking to a bloke Louis doesn't know, unaware that they're not alone anymore. There is a smirk on his lips and his head is tilted to the side.

However, the guy steps away from Harry when he sees Louis, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Thanks mate. I'll return the favour.” He says with a tight smile, nervous eyes finding Louis and only when he passes through the doorway does Harry face him too, smirk dropping.

“I was looking for you everywhere.” Is the first thing Louis says, subtly trying to hide the coke in his front pocket of his jeans but the motion draws Harry's attention to it and before he can point it out, Louis rambles anxiously on. “Were you hiding in there this whole time? Lara left by the way. Said she won't drive back with us, dunno, I hope Ivana and her finally talk.” Louis rubs below his nose, “Anyway, who was that guy?”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, “What's in your hand?”

“Uh, what? N-nothing.” Louis answers too quickly, feeling hot all over when Harry's eyes narrow dangerously. “I, uh, just wanted to have a wee, so.” He shrugs self-consciously, inwardly wincing at his poor act. He's just caught off guard. It's stupid. “Stop looking at me like that.” Louis snaps at the end, crossing his arms defensively. “You're the one who never showed up again and then I find you in the loo with some bloke? Returning the favour? Really, Harry? What was that about?”

Harry licks his lips, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. “He was a buyer, and I know you knew that already.” He brushes it aside, scoffing. “Don't try to dodge my question, it's simple. C’mon Louis say it.”

“I need to piss.” Louis snaps at him, “So could you just give me a mo?”

“Have at it.” Harry says, casually waving the hand towards the toilet. “Go on.”

“I'm not pissing when you're in the same room, get out.”

“Maybe I'm into that?” Harry lifts a brow. 

“You're not.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I'm sure I would've found out by now.”

“Maybe I was too shy to mention it?” 

Louis groans, Harry smiling sweetly at him. Both of them know he's anything but shy when it comes to his needs, kinks, or whatever it is he wants. Harry never dances around the subject of his desires. Just this week they were sitting on the sofa, surrounded by their friends no less and Harry casually threw out there that he'd like Louis to eat his arse. The house cleared out in minutes, and Louis was quick to please. 

So. 

The moment Louis steps towards the toilet, Harry pushes himself from the wall, boxing Louis in between his body and the washbasin. 

Louis swallows, blinking up at Harry, who leans closer, hot breath fanning over Louis' face as Harry dips his head down to plant an open mouthed kiss to Louis’ neck. Louis makes an embarrassingly high sound in the back of his throat, exhaling heavily through his nostrils. 

Harry hums against his skin, nibbling at the spot just under Louis' ear that he knows drives Louis fucking nuts. “Show me what you’ve got in your hand, baby.” He murmurs low, dropping kisses along Louis' jaw and darting his tongue over Louis' bottom lip. When Louis tries to catch his lips for a kiss, Harry withdraws his head, smirking like the smug bastard he is. 

Louis' blood rushes south as Harry grinds his hips softly against Louis'. 

Licking his own lips, his eyes flicker, searching over Harry's face. He can't read the expression, he can't tell how Harry will react.

“It's coke.” Louis whispers finally, eyes drooping in shame. When Harry doesn’t pull away but doesn’t speak either, Louis looks up with a frown. 

“I don't think you were trying to sell it in here?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Or flush it down the toilet.”

Again, Louis shakes his head.

“You wanted to take it.” 

Louis nods.

Harry breathes in deeply, closing his eyes shortly, then he steps back. Louis' heart gives a violent tug. “Go on.” 

“What?” Louis' brows pull together.

“Take it.” Harry drawls. 

This is a trap, Louis thinks. Harry would never tell him to take drugs, there has to be a catch. When Louis just stares at him like an idiot, Harry chuckles, reaching out to take his hand. He turns it around, soft fingers unclenching Louis' own around the pack until both of them look at the little packet on Louis' open palm. 

Harry smiles at him but it doesn't reach his eyes as he opens the pack for Louis. “There you go.” 

“Why?” Louis asks, hoarsely. 

He doesn't get an answer. Instead, Harry holds an already used and covered with fine crumbs of coke hand-mirror towards him and fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, handing Louis his credit card and a five pound note. 

“All ready to go now, babe.” He murmurs. 

“Thanks.” Louis says dumbly, still stunned, still weirded out by Harry's behaviour. 

This doesn't feel right, glancing down, he turns around. The green eyes feel like two spotlights on him. He gulps as he spreads some of the coke on the little mirrors surface. His hands shake when he tries to form straight lines. 

He catches a reflection of himself in the little mirror and holds back a wince at how worked up he looks. His eyes are wet, though he doesn't feel like crying and his cheeks have lost all the colour they held earlier in the night when he had felt warm and giddy, ready to have the best time of his life with Harry and all their friends by his side. Now, he just looks like he's going to break down any moment. 

Harry steps behind him, hands holding Louis' hips. It startled him so hard, causing him to ruin the second line, cursing under his breath. 

“Oops.” Harry says, peeking over Louis' shoulder down at the mirror. “My bad.” 

Louis' eyes squirm, and inhaling deeply, he tries again, but the credit card cuts right through both lines when Harry's teeth catch his earlobe. 

“Harry.” Louis whimpers. 

“Hmm? Is there a problem?” 

Louis sets his jaw, clammy fingers holding the card in a death grip. Harry's fingers sneak under the hem of Louis' shirt, wandering over his navel and tugging at the soft hair.

Louis isn't breathing. His heart is pounding so hard and is so loud in his ears that it drowns out the music coming from the living room. 

He closes his eyes and gulps. 

“Baby.” Harry mumbles, kissing his neck, palm flat on Louis' stomach. Louis looks up in the mirror that's hung up on the wall, immediately making eye contact with Harry. 

His hand clenches around the card, the length of it digging into his skin. 

Harry smiles like he’s won and Louis - loses it. 

Spinning around, he shoves at Harry's chest, stumbling back until his back is against the wall, smirk too smug, eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. 

“Go to hell, Harry.” Louis snaps, lunging forward and right in Harry's face. They're nose to nose, levelling each other with stares. Louis' chest heaves with rapid breaths.

“Only if you join me.” Harry whispers, lips crashing against Louis'. 

Louis kisses back, hard and fiercely biting down on Harry's bottom lip in frustration, causing Harry to wince softly. 

Louis buries his fingers in Harry's hair, knocking the hat off, landing somewhere on the floor, Harry pulls him closer, hands on Louis' lower back, lining their straining cocks up and Louis hisses, tugging on the tips of Harry's curls. 

When they let up from each other's bruised lips, equally heavily panting, Louis goes straight on his knees, fumbling with Harry’s zipper. He groans when it gets caught in the fabric and tries again. His fingers shake so hard it's embarrassing. 

Harry cradles his cheek, thumb beneath his chin, lifting it so much more gently than he was just seconds ago. 

Green meets blue and the fight, the anger, the frustration and shame leave Louis' body and he closes his eyes, forehead sinking against Harry's upper thighs as his throat closes in and it's difficult to inhale the much needed air. 

He hugs Harry's legs, faintly recognising the fingers that run through his hair. Louis lets out a choked sob that's muffled against Harry's jeans. 

“I'm sorry.” He whimpers, not daring to look up again. Another sob breaks through and he holds Harry tighter, scared to let go. 

“It's okay.” Harry murmurs, exhaling brokenly, like he's holding back tears too. “I'm here, Louis.” 

Drops spill over the rim of Louis' eyes, dampening Harry's trousers and he clings to Harry's legs like a lifeline.

He feels truly pathetic, his knees hurt from his position on the cold bathroom floor and he wishes he could stop weeping, hating being weak in front of Harry. He’s broken down so many times already, he thinks he is actually weak and not as strong as he thought he were.

Somehow the gentle touch of Harry's fingers running through his hair make him think it's alright to be weak sometimes.

 

*    *    * 

 

Niall is snoring on the floor of the tidy dorm room and Liam is drooling onto the pillow in his twin sized bed, thin blanket covering his broad frame. 

It’s still early. Birds chirp their morning song as the sun bathes the room in an orange glow. There aren’t any pictures on the wall, they are already packed by the two suitcases that are placed next to the door. 

Harry sniffles and snuggles closer, breath still even with the heaviness of sleep. Louis smiles down at him, playing with a loose strand of Harry’s curls, swirling it around his finger before letting go, tucking it behind Harry’s ear. 

“Why are you awake?” Harry slurs into Louis' neck. “S’early.” 

Louis doesn’t answer but his smile turns softer and he kisses Harry’s forehead briefly. 

Harry cracks one eye open as Louis draws his arm out from beneath his head, blinking up at Louis when he scoots to the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Go back to sleep, love, I’m just gonna go out for a smoke.” 

“Don’t.” Harry pouts, hugging his middle from behind, burying his head in the lowest part of Louis' back, nose nudging the dimples there.

The corner of Louis' mouth twitches uncontrollably in amusement. “I’ll be right back.” He vows, bringing Harry’s hand up to his lips and kissing each knuckle, before turning around and pressing another kiss to Harry’s messy crown of hair. 

Harry's frown deepens, but he sighs when Louis gets up, resting his head back on the pillow. However, a moment later he's fast asleep like a baby, mouth opening of its own accord. 

Louis snorts, tiptoeing across the room and throwing on the faded green jacket he wore at the beginning of  the party and abandoned later, feeling relieved that no one stole it. It’s one of his favourites. But then again, he has loads of favourites - he should stop playing the pick-a-favourite-game. Seriously. 

He shuts the door, carefully so as not to wake anyone and releases a great sigh. 

Walking down the empty hallway, he purses his lips, trying to remember which way to go. His ears pick up an echo of voices coming from his left. Ambling towards the sound, he finds the stairs a moment later, grinning shortly that he’s not lost in the maze of the same looking doors and green painted walls. 

He passes some parents carrying boxes out of someone's dorm and he passes students that look bleary eyed and hungover as fuck. He grins at them, winking because yeah, he’s been there. 

Stepping outside, he slows down his pace, enjoying the morning sun and making a mental note to start jogging in the morning again. Starting…next week, next month, whenever he feels like it. Really. Next year sounds good too.

He pulls out a cigarette, quick fingers lighting it up and takes the first drag as he saunters over the campus. 

A moment later, he finds Ivana and Lara curled around each other under the open sky, planted on the green grass. They make quite the picture, and Louis almost feels bad for disrupting their slumber. 

Almost. 

“Good morning ladies.” Louis chirps despite the headache pounding on his temples and smirks at Lara and Ivana, arms around each other, looking just a tad too cute. 

“What the fuck.” Lara mutters, blinking her brown eyes open and fixing Louis with a death glare. “Get lost, arsehole.” 

“You slept outside?” Louis asks, just to piss her off a teeny bit more.

It seems to work because she flips him off. Ivana nuzzles more into her embrace and he chuckles quietly. 

A guy can take a hint, he thinks, chuckling and leaving the love birds alone, trying not to worry too much about where they stand and how they ended up outside in the first place. 

He finishes his cigarette when he comes across the kiosk, buying some junk food for himself and the boys plus a banana for Harry, knowing he loves them the most (besides, the kiosk has a very limited offering on fresh fruit and the bananas at least look good while the berries do…not so much). 

Before he goes back upstairs and joins Harry for another two hours in the too small bed, he plants himself under the shadow of a tree. It’s still cold out, the sun not quite strong enough to warm his skin. He straightens his jacket, placing his purchases next to him on the grass and opens the gummy bears, picking out a red one and sucking it into his mouth. 

If there are two things he would never get tired of eating — they’re cereal and gummy bears. 

Louis loves Harry’s cooking though. It’s heaven. 

“Why are you sitting here all by yourself?” 

Louis blinks up to the boy shielding the sun. 

“Enjoying the last bit you gonna get being on campus or what?” The guy continues, the voice oddly familiar. 

Louis smiles mildly. “Not going to Uni.” He says unfazed, closing the pack of his brekkie, just so he has something to do with his hands. 

“Are you homeless?” The concern in this boy's voice is so real, it coaxes a surprised laugh out of Louis. 

“Do I look like a homeless person?” He asks back, arching a daring brow. 

“I mean…” The guy wrinkles his nose, making a gesture to Louis' hair. 

Right, he hasn’t showered since yesterday and he feels it sticking to his forehead, he brushes it off his skin. He should have taken a beanie with him, dammit. 

“So, you just walked all the way over, to insult me? What if homeless is the new trend for next summer, and I’m just ahead of everyone else?” Louis says, and though his words come out smooth, his cheeks are flushed in embarrassment.

The guy chuckles, running a hand through his blonde hair. Louis still can't pinpoint him. “Hm, guess if that’s the case, I’ll let it slide.” He grins a dorky smile, wide and toothy. “I’m Felix,” He says, eye twitching, like he’s unsure about something, “from the party last night?” 

It clicks and oh. That's right. Louis lifts his eyebrows as realisation dawns on him. “The one who claimed he saved my arse.” Louis says, making the other guy direct his gaze to the ground bashfully.

“What’s your name again?” Felix asks, glancing up, playing coy, “Don’t think I quite understood, the music was just too loud.” 

Louis grins, cocking an eyebrow. “I see, I see.” He nods his head. “That’s too bad then.” 

Somehow unfazed, Felix sits down, crossing his legs like Louis invited him to do so. “Maybe you could refresh my memory?” He asks. 

“I’m afraid I cannot.” 

Because his not well thought out line backfired, Felix frowns, inhaling in frustration. “So, mysterious guy without a name, when you’re not going to Uni, what are you doing on campus?” 

“Uh, helped a friend pack his shit and stayed for the party.” Louis shrugs his left shoulder. “How about you?” 

Felix mirrors his shrug. “About the same, I helped my brother.” He glances over his shoulder. “Our parents gonna pick us up in a bit.”

“Why aren’t you with your brother?” 

Felix scrunches up his nose. “He’s saying goodbye to his girlfriend. She's going away for the summer.” 

“Ah…” Louis draws the word out, running his tongue over the back of his teeth. 

“Yeah so, wanted to give ‘em a bit of privacy.” 

“What a good brother, you are.” Louis teases, grinning. 

Felix blushes under Louis' gaze and breaks it, pointing to the bears, he asks, “May I have some?” 

“Help yourself, buddy.” Louis throws the pack into the hole of Felix triangle-crossed legs. 

There is a moment of silence between them, in which Felix opens the pack and gets a handful out. Munching on them, he smiles at Louis. “Thanks.” 

Louis fishes out his pack of cigarettes, and only when he takes the first drag, he asks, “Do you mind?” 

The blond boy shakes his head. “Nah, s’alright.” 

They make some more inconsequential chit-chat, while Louis smokes his cigarette and Felix empties the leftovers of Louis' colourful breakfast. When his fag is burned down, Louis sighs. He should get back to the dorms, to see if Harry is already up so he can annoy him or something. Maybe they still have time to shower together. hat could be quite fun - communal showers and all. Only thinking about the small risk of being caught sends a needling shiver down his spine and Louis shakes his head.  Looking at Felix, he is in the wrong company to have those kind of thoughts.

Just as he opens his mouth to tell Felix he has to get going and it was nice to see him again, a lanky figure walks towards them, unmistakably the boy that claims Louis’ every thought. 

“Hey, I was already wondering where you’re at.” Harry greets with a big exhale. Putting his hands on his hips, he comes to a stand next to Felix. “A cigarette only takes so long.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, fondly smiling up at him. “Well, you found me. Wanted to head back up in a mo, anyway.” 

“Niall is still sleeping.” Harry chuckles, only then does he glance down to Felix who looks up at him with a little frown put on his face. “Oh, hey mate.” Harry says. His voice is polite, but there is a weird tilt to it. 

“Uh, this is Felix, from the party last night?” Louis says, nodding towards the boy with his chin. “Felix, this is Harry.” 

“I think I know your brother.” Harry says, pursing his lips, “Seth, yeah?” 

Felix blinks owlish. “Oh, uh yeah?” 

“Great. Tell him I said hi.” 

“Will do.” 

Louis gets to his feet, brushing dust of his bum and gathering his things. “I bought you and the lads brekkie.” He says, pointing the banana towards Harry like a gun. Harry smiles, a soft private smile that’s reserved for Louis and Louis only. He takes the banana, pointing it back at Louis. 

“Peng.” He whispers, dimple carving in his cheek, cheekily. 

Louis snorts, shaking his head. Someone clears his throat and only then, Louis remembers they’re not alone. “Well, I’ll see you around,” Louis says, hoping the words won’t come true. Felix is nice and all, but the look he’s sending Louis is a tad more than friendly. 

Felix scrambles to a stand, swaying a bit forth and back to gain balance due to the speed at which he shot up from his spot on the grass. “Uh, yeah, yeah,” He says, “maybe I can give you my  number? We could hang out sometime.” 

Louis freezes at the words, glance darting to Harry, who’s already looking at him with lifted brows. They share a beat of a silent staring contest before Louis directs his attention back to the blond lad. 

“I actually don't have a phone with me,” He starts slowly, unsure how to say, ‘no’ to an innocent looking face, without coming across as rude. He sure hopes the bloke will get the hint, without Louis having to spell it out for him. 

“Oh,” Felix says taken aback, “well, I could just write my number down?” He’s quick to answer, however. Maybe it’s too early in the morning or he drank one too many yesterday, to see that Louis has no interest.  

Harry snorts, trying to cover his amusement with a fake cough. It's not helping and Louis shifts his weight awkwardly. 

What does one do in a situation like that? If he were at a nightclub, he’d just tell them straightforward to fuck off, whatever, but in the sunlight, on a Sunday morning, Louis is a bit out of his depth. 

“Alright, put it down.” Louis gives in eventually, feeling Harry stiffen next to him. 

The smile he gets from Felix is beaming and he wants to start digging his own grave when the kid actually gets out a napkin from his pocket and scribbles his number on it. Who carries a napkin around? 

“Great.” Felix says, still shining brighter than the sun. It's too early to feel this bad, Louis muses, taking in the hopeful expression of the boy. He can't be older than eighteen. Maybe he's not even legal - perhaps he begged his brother to sneak him in last night. “Call me.” 

Louis accepts the napkin with numb fingers. “Alright.” He clears his throat. “Have a good summer,  _ buddy _ .” He says, emphasizing the last word. 

Felix smiles. “You too!”

“Bye.” Louis says quickly, craving to get away from this oblivious guy. 

The moment Felix is out of earshot, Harry exhales. “What the hell?” 

Louis bites down on his bottom lip, chuckling, and he looks up at Harry, “ _ Jesus _ .” 

“Were you trying to pull in front of me?” Harry asks, but there is amusement in his voice and Louis blows air out of his nose. “Right in front of me, seriously?” 

Louis shakes his head, laughing, “Jealous?” He shrugs with his eyebrows, nudging his shoulder against Harry’s. 

“Very.” Harry drawls, much more seriously than just a moment ago. 

“Hm-mh, can’t quite believe you.” Louis sings-songs, flashing a smirk and waving the napkin around. 

Harry stops in his tracks which in return makes Louis halt as well. 

His eyes sparkle dangerously as they make eye contact. 

“Very intimidating,” Louis breathes, chuckling as he walks back towards the building. He doesn’t get further than the door when a hand yanks him around, and a moment later there are lips on his own. Pressing, needing, hot and dry. 

Harry pushes Louis back against the wall, fingers digging to Louis' waist whilst Harry’s tongue forces Louis to part his lips. 

Louis breathes out through his nose before opening up for Harry, letting the hot tongue slide on top of his own.  

He throws his arms around Harry’s neck to bring him closer until their chests are flushed together, Harry hums, pleased. 

“You won’t hang out with him.” Harry pants against his lips. It’s not a possessive order, for that, Harry’s voice is too whiny, like a child that doesn’t want to go to school in the morning and begs their mum to bring them back home. 

“He cornered me, he's young, I didn't know what to say.” Louis says honestly, kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry.” 

Harry pouts. “I don’t like you flirting with anyone else. I remember yesterday.”

Louis blinks, dumbfounded. Hearing that makes his heart swell. What does that mean? Louis wonders, are they, like, boyfriends? 

“Trust me, this wasn't me trying to pull or flirt.” Louis chuckles, “You should know that.” He adds with a meaningful smirk. 

“Hm.” Harry murmurs, pressing his lips against Louis’ again and again until both of them forget why they are aggressively kissing each other in public. 

The door opening startles them apart as a family comes through, sending them weird glances in passing. 

Louis hides his face in Harry’s chest, both of them giggling. 

“Eat your banana.” Louis says, when they are calmed down, bending down to gather the packs that fell out of his hands as Harry attacked him. He throws the napkin in the rubbish bin next to the front door, giving Harry a pointed look. Harry snorts, but looks just as pleased. 

“Then,” Louis continues, holding the door open for Harry, “let’s wake the Irish from the dead.” 

Green eyes twinkle back at him, lips puffy and a darker shade of red. “What have you planned?” 

 

*    *    *

 

“We got to go, Louis.” Harry says, his voice muffled by the bathroom door that’s separating them. 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Louis calls, adjusting his fringe one more time. It’s gotten so, so long and his stubble is out of control…it’s more like a slight beard now and Harry already complained about the beard-burn. Louis needs to shave when they get back. He also needs to ask Lottie if she can cut his hair. 

That means he has to go home. He really wants to stay with Harry though.

His skeptical eyes run over his face one last time, then he sighs, he can’t do any more. 

Opening the door, he’s met with the sight of Harry lying across the bed, arms taking up the length of the mattress, knees bent at the edge of the bed and his feet placed on the ground. Harry lifts his head, “Finally,” he exhales. 

Louis laughs, taking off in a jog and jumping on the bed, knees either side of Harry’s hips. Louis bounces up and down, making the bed squeak under their weight. 

He drums on Harry’s chest, making the other boy laugh. 

“Let's go.” Louis giggles, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s  _ go _ .” Each word is followed by a bounce.

Harry grins boyish. “Alright, lemme up.” 

“No,” Louis pouts, leaning down and catching Harry’s lips.

Harry kisses back, before he brushes Louis' fringe off, and Louis huffs outraged. 

“I worked on that,” he protests, “it took me hours, get your fingers out of my hair.” 

“You were in there for like…ten minutes.” Harry says, fingers tugging on the longest of strands, just beside Louis' eye. 

“Yes, and you were whining the whole time that I was taking just  _ so _ long.” Louis rolls his eyes. 

“I like your hair like this.” Harry says, softly. 

Louis tries not to blush, but somehow his body is not on the same page, and his cheeks pink up a bit. 

“Thanks,” Louis says, sitting back and scooting off Harry’s lap and back on the ground. He hums, looking around for his Vans. 

“We better take the car now,” Harry says with a sigh, sitting upright. 

“I don’t wanna walk in this damn heat anyway,” Louis muses, pulling on his shoes. 

“Why is it so hot? It’s England.” 

“Maybe we thought we’re living in the UK, but actually it’s Spain.” Louis says, following Harry out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

“Uh-huh, I would love to go to Spain.” He says over his shoulder, “We should travel there someday.” 

“We should.” Louis agrees with a breathless voice. 

“I’d love to see Amsterdam, too.” Harry continues, unlocking the car. 

“You only wanna go there because weed is legal.” Louis grins, sliding onto the seat and closing the door.

“I’ve got enough weed, I wanna see the houses. I’ve seen pictures, the city is beautiful.” Harry turns on the car, pulling out of the driveway.

“Where else do you wanna go?” 

“Hm,” Harry licks his lip, “I’ve never been to London - don’t laugh,” He shoots a quick glance at Louis, “I never had the opportunity.” 

“I can take you to London.” Louis says without thinking. It brings a smile on Harry’s face and Louis can’t find the strength to regret his words. They  _ actually _ could visit London. In theory.

“I’d love that.” Harry says, wrapping Louis' hand in his large one, squeezing gently.

Louis looks out of the window. “Hmm…me too.”

When he sees his own reflection smiling, he avoids looking out of the window for the rest of the short drive.

 

*    *    *

 

Harry doesn’t want Louis to come along to Manchester on Tuesday. 

He has reasons, Louis completely understands. The upper doctor will have a check-up with Anne, Harry, and Gemma which means — family only.

Louis’ chest tightens when Harry drops him off at Lottie’s. Louis wants to be there for Harry, whatever the doctor has to say, good or bad news. Louis wants to hold Harry’s hand, wants to see him rather smile than cry but if there will be tears, Louis could at least do something to make it a tad better.

From Macclesfield, he can’t do shit. Louis doesn’t protest when they part with a french kiss and whispered words of ‘call me’, ‘text me’, ‘pick me up the moment you get back’, and ‘I will’, ‘I will’, and ‘of course Lou, I will’.

The moment the black bread van is out of sight, Louis makes it up the stairs, a dreadful feeling knotting his stomach into a big squirming ball of nerves.

Before he gets a chance to unlock the door, knock or ring the bell, it swings open.

The siblings stare at each other for a beat, Louis too caught off guard to do more than blink into the face of his sister.

Her blue eyes lighten up and one moment later, he’s in a tight embrace.

Louis squeezes her back, breathing in her flowery perfume and kissing her temple. Stepping back, he forces himself to smile.

“Hey stranger.” Lottie says, one sassy eyebrow croaked.

“‘Ello my favourite, favourite,  _ favourite _ sister.”

“I am your only sister.”

“Oh, thank god, don’t think I could handle two of you.”

Louis deserves the punch to his upper arm.

“How are you?” Lottie asks, when they are inside.

“I’m good,” Louis smiles, not knowing himself if it’s the truth or a lie. He refuses to think back to the party. “How are you? How is work treating you?”

She huffs, “Don't fucking ask.”

“What kind of language is that?”

Unimpressed, she blinks at him. “You are worse than I am.”

“Bloody hell, I am not.” Louis grins cheekily.“I bloody raised you better than this.”

There goes another punch to his arm. He’ll have  to explain the bruises later to Harry.

“Anyway,” She gets the tea ready, kettle on and two cups out. “It’s been a long week.”

Louis knows how she feels, exhaustion making his bones buzz with the need of more sleep.

“You work too much,” he says, concerned. “What is it? Sixty hours a week? Saturday and Sunday too?”

“I do overtime.” Lottie informs him.

Louis frowns. “Do you need the money?”

Lottie shakes her head, ponytail swinging left to right. “Nah, money isn’t the issue.”

“Is there trouble between you and Tommy?”

She freezes. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Louis glances around the kitchen, “Is he home?”

“He’s at work.”

“He works just as much as you do,” Louis notes, crossing his arms, “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

Lottie sighs, “Let's sit.”

Louis' heart pounds harder, this cannot be good, right?  _ Right _ ? And here he thought Harry would be the only one with some big news coming his way. Oh bloody hell, he could use Harry’s hand in his right now.

When they are seated at the kitchen table, two steaming cups of delicious smelling tea in front of them, Louis sends her a pointed look.

She huffs, taking a careful sip.

“Talk.” Louis says with a concerned scan of her face, taking in the bags beneath her eyes and the hollow of her cheeks. She looks ashen, pale blue eyes catching his and he raises his eyebrows, worry letting him hold his breath.

She looks awful.

“We…” She starts, casting her gaze down to the table surface, “We’re trying again.”

Oh, uh,  _ oh _ .

Louis wants to speak up, to tell her that this is awesome, but when she looks up at him, the words die on his tongue. He swallows them down with too hot tea.

“He wants to try.” She corrects. “I’m scared. I don’t want to experience the loss again, it was awful. I just recovered and now he wants to do it all over  _ again _ .”

“You work, so you guys don’t have time to try?” Louis guesses.

Lottie wrinkles her face, “No.”

“Liar. C’mon Lots, it’s me.” Louis prompts gently, taking her hand in his over the surface.

“Okay, yeah…maybe?”

Louis smiles sadly. “Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

“I can’t,” Lottie exhales, “He thinks I’m doing better, I don’t want to disappoint him. He wants to be a young parent, you know? So he can chase the little one in the garden and all.”

Louis doesn’t respond.

“I want that too, but I am so scared, Lou.”

“Is he pressuring you?” His eyes narrow at the thought.

She shakes her head. “No, no. He just…talks a lot about…babies. Like when we’re in bed, he keeps talking about our future and that we could redo the nursery.”

Louis squeezes her hand. “What do you want? Like really, seriously.”

Lottie sighs, “I want that too, so…so bad.” She sighs sadly, her blue eyes staring right through him, distant. “I want a little one running around, I want that, I want to be a  _ mum _ . Always wanted to… and Tommy would make the best dad, I love him so much.” She clears her throat, blinking, and she smiles at him, albeit a short-lived smile.

“You think your fear will be gone in a couple of years?” He asks.

“No.”  

“In five years? Ten?”

She shakes her head.

Wetting his lips, he lets go off her hand, taking a sip of his cooled down tea.

“Remember when mum sent me to Berlin for a meeting?” Louis asks, not waiting for her answer, because he knows she remembers, how could she not? He’d been a bloody mess. “I was so scared to go there alone, it was intimidating. All those guys in suits, so much older than I was and they had an actual education.” He chuckles. “Obviously, I fucked up, I failed Mum’s test.”

“You were seventeen,” Lottie reminds him, “She should’ve known better.”

“Thanks so much.” Louis says drily.

“No, no I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Louis cuts in, sending her a smile, “but I went there anyway, with all the information she wanted me to deliver, and those men ate me alive, not in the way I’d prefer.”

Lottie chuckles, Louis' smile grows.

“I stuttered and I think I choked on my own spit before some bloke took pity and offered me water.  _ Anyway _ . When I got home, she lectured me and said how disappointed she was, blah-blah.  And I swore I would never go alone anywhere, when she said I’d have to be better next time.” Louis' smiles fades, “It was the first time I disappointed her and I won’t ever forget how she looked at me, with all the doubt of if I was the right person for the job.”

“It was your first time,” Lottie says, frowning, “Of course you’d be nervous.”

“She thought because I’d been to so many meetings before, I’d be fine on my own.” Louis shrugs, “I was honoured she’d even let me go…let alone to another country.”

“You were over the moon,” Lottie nods, remembering. “Before the nerves kicked in.”

Louis licks his lips. “And when I got back I cried my eyes out, and what did you tell me?” He raises his eyebrows.

“The next time, you’ll be more prepared and you’ll rock the meeting.” She recalls, not missing a beat. “That you won’t be as nervous anymore if you keep trying.” Lottie blinks, confusion clouding her face. “What does that have to do with me?”

Louis inhales, exhales and takes the last sip of tea. “When I went to the next meeting Mum sent me to, it was only two weeks later. I was bloody scared to do it all over again, but you said I couldn’t let the fear hold me back because we both thought the company was what I wanted and if I didn’t try again, I would never be ready to take over.”

Understanding flashes in her eyes, before she lets her gaze falls downwards.

“What happened to you is the worst that can happen to a mum, losing their child, even before it got a chance to live.” He swallows, throat tightening. “You won’t ever be ready to try again if you let the fear of repeating the past get to you. It would never be easier in ten years or twenty and when you are old and you look back…you’ll regret not going after what you want. It’s a baby you want and I understand if you’re not ready right now, but…Lottie, what happened won’t ever happen again, just like with my meeting. I made a right tit out of myself in front of the most important business partners but I aced the next meeting.”

“S’not the same.” She protests.

“It’s fear. It doesn’t matter what you fear, if it’s going into the ocean because you saw some horror movie with sharks or if you got hit by a car, barely survived, but you must get in a car again to get to work. We fear that what happened to us will happen again, but that’s not true.”

“You can’t know that.”

“We are Tomlinson’s. We’re fucking scared but we do it anyway and afterwards we are stronger than ever, yeah?”

“Are you strong, Lou?” The questions makes him freeze in the chair.

“What do you mean? I’m not scared of anything.”

“You were scared to come out, and I’m not sure if you are stronger now.”

Louis frowns. “That is not the same thing, Lots, you know that. Besides I am out, I’ve got a boyfriend…remember?” If Harry is his boyfriend, that is.

She shakes her head. “Will you introduce me to him, then?”

He blinks. “Will you think about what I’ve said?”

She nods, breaking eye contact, her lower lip starting to tremble.

“I love you, Lou, thank you.” She murmurs, getting up, rounding the table. He stands up too and they hug each other close, her squeezing his biceps.  

“Love you too.”

They share a moment of brother-sister-love before she chuckles. “All right, what about the boy then?”

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Louis mutters into her hair before tugging lightly on her ponytail and straightening up. The joints in his back pop with a crack.

“You could invite him for Sunday’s roast.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll ask him, you mean?” She looks up at him.

“I…” he bites his tongue, taking the cups and turning his back to his sister. He washes them.

“I would love to meet the boy that makes you blush.”

“Ha-ha,” He sends her a glare over his shoulder before drying the cups.

“I’ve got a night shift, so if you want we can watch a movie.”

“I’d love to.” He smiles, relieved at the topic change.

“Alright, we can order in, don’t feel like cooking.”

“When is Tommy back from work?”

“When I leave for work,” She gets up, “ _ duh _ .” With that, she is out of the kitchen, leaving Louis staring after her.

He sighs to himself, rolling his head in his neck and closing his eyes.

_ Love _ . He thinks. Love is so much more complicated than he’d thought.

 

*    *    * 

 

Harry doesn’t keep his promise to text, call, or pick Louis up. 

All of Louis’ messages get through but remain unread. He tries not to worry too much about Harry and what it means.

He fails, wrapping himself in Harry’s black coat which is still in his room and lays down on the bed. The fabric doesn’t smell like Harry anymore, but it gives Louis some comfort to have something that belongs to his favourite person.

Lottie is gone, Tommy is sleeping, and Louis is tired, but unable to find rest.

He scrolls through his social media, hanging on party pictures from London he missed; but he isn’t missing any of it, not when his heart clenches every time a message comes through but they’re from all the wrong people.

Niall, Liam, Lara, even from Eleanor asking how he’s doing.

Apparently Nick has told her he’s away visiting Lottie and the way she comes across through the phone, he can tell she is mad at him for getting the information from a third person not him directly.

Louis sends an apology but doesn’t reply to any of her other one million questions, instead he turns his phone upside down beside him on the sheets and heaves a great sigh.

His phone buzzes rapidly three times but he doesn’t bother to check who is trying to reach out, sure it is not the person he wants to hear from, and rolls onto his side, away from his phone.

Louis feels like a stranger in the room, out of place, the moonlight shining on the wrong furniture. It smells wrong, too clean, not like weed. There are no paintings on the walls he could look at. It feels so much like a room in the rehab centre his parents made him look at that it raises bile up his throat.

He hasn’t done drugs for too long. He chose not to take them at the party last weekend, and after he calmed down from his breakdown, they smoked together out on the balcony, avoiding the crowd inside until Louis was back to his old-self and pretended the nicotine would do.

It didn’t, and he only found some kind of relief when he dragged Harry to the dance floor, dared him to show his weirdest dance moves and found a bubbling happiness inside his chest as they made a stupid competition out of it, whilst the people cheered them on.

After that, they did some more shots in the kitchen and when a random girl showed up asking for coke, Harry took over, his arm a steady and much needed weight on Louis' shoulder.

It was all peachy, really. Harry asked if he was alright, if he wanted to leave, go back to the dorms to sleep. And, it helped. They did not go back to Liam's room, they stayed until everyone was almost cleared out, sitting on the couch with Liam, talking random shit and joking.

Someone else took the rest of the pills, money flowed into Louis' wallet by the end of the night and when they joined the boys in the dorm room, he handed it to Harry.

Louis is fine when he’s surrounded by people…by Harry, but he is alone now and the weight of the urge to binge snow is lingering in the back of his head.

His fingers twitch, his toes wiggle.

The buzzing of his phone makes the mattress vibrate and brings him out of his self-pitying state.

Louis groans, rolling around to silence the damn thing but the name staring back at him on screen lets him pause.

_ Frog _ .

It’s as if Harry knew what is going on in Louis' head. He's quick to unlock the phone to read the message.

There are several, but before he gets a chance to read, his phone lights up with a call.

It’s Harry.

He accepts right away.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Louis frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…yeah,” there is some rustling, then Louis only hears uneven breathing from Harry, “I’m with Gem’s still.”

“Don’t worry,” Louis smiles, “s’all good, I’m not mad.”

“It’s been a  _ hell _ of a day, lemme tell you.” Harry groans.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Harry chuckles, “can wait ’til tomorrow.”

Louis breaths out, “I miss you.” He did not mean to say the words out loud, but that doesn’t make them less true.

“I miss you too.”

“It’s been what? Eight hours?” Louis says with a quiet laugh. “Look at us.”

“Never knew being pathetic could feel this good,” Harry chuckles, his voice muffled, like he’s trying to keep quiet.

Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“Did I wake you up?” Harry asks. “S’like…two in the morning.”

“Nah, couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?” There is concern now in Harry’s voice and Louis doesn’t want that.

“Watched some horror movies with Lottie, shouldn’t have done that.” He grins, it’s the truth, just not the cause of him being awake this late at night.

“You’re a chicken,” Harry grins through the phone. “How’s Lottie? Everything good?”

Louis licks his lips, thinking back on their chat at the kitchen table. It’s nothing he can share with Harry, but after they settled on the sofa and watched the first of many movies, he thinks he is good to say that she is okay.

For the time being, at least.

“She’s doing alright,” Louis says, finally. “Works too much, but what else is new?”

Harry hums, and the sound is oddly comforting.

“How’s Anne?” Louis asks, pushing away the thought that he wants to ask Harry if he wants to meet Lottie next Sunday. He wants to do that in person.

“She is…okay, s’always back and forth.” He can basically hear Harry’s shrug.

Louis swallows. “So nothing…new?” He prompts, wanting to hear Harry say she’s getting out of there in no time.

“No, just a routine check-up. Went out with Gem after, had a couple of pints, couldn’t drive back plus I left my phone at hers.”

Louis clicks his tongue. “So, so. Pulling a Tommo, I see, leaving your phone.”

“Yeah, you’re passing your bad habits over to me, next I’ll only eat unhealthy cereal for brekkie.”

“Because your cigarettes are so much healthier.” Louis grins, making Harry laugh.

“Everyone has a bad habit, smoking is mine.”

“Ever tried to stop?”

“No, you?”

“Nah.”

“We should try someday.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. He’s already trying to get away from the harder drugs, he can’t recover from all the bad shit he’s doing.

“Maybe we should start with you teaching me how to cook?”

There is a pause.

“Oh, uh I’d love to, Lou.” Harry answers, surprised. “Gonna be fun.”

“Yeah, no…I’m a disaster in the kitchen, you’ll hate me for making you teach me.”

“I think I can handle you.” Harry states, smile clear in his honey voice. “We’ll start with something simple and fun.”

“Like…cereal? Tea? Coffee? I think I could pull that off.”

Harry laughs. “Whatever Louis, you’ll see.”

“You already have something in mind.” Louis observes. There is mirth clear as a summer day in Harry’s deep voice.

“I do.” Harry chirps. here is another voice in the background, and Louis can’t make out the words Gemma is saying but she sounds pissed, so. “Sorry, Gems.” He hears Harry say.

“You gotta go?”

“Yeah, or she will kick me out and make me sleep in the car.”

Louis grins, “I don’t doubt it.”

Another moment passes with them just breathing on the line, then Harry murmurs, “Good night, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sleep well, love.” Louis replies equally soft.

“Goodnight,”

“Night,”

“Hang up.”

“Nope, you gotta do it.”

Harry laughs. “No,” he draws the words out, “do it Louis, I won’t.”

There is more rustling in the background and then, “I’ll do it for you guys, you bloody saps.” Gemma voice says into the speaker, making Louis laugh. “Sorry Louis, but this is disgusting.”

Harry makes out a protesting ‘ _ hey _ ’ in the background and a ‘ _ gimme back my phone _ ’ but Gemma just laughs along with Louis, unbothered by Harry’s threat to shave her head while she’s sleeping.

“Anyway, I really need to sleep.” Gemma states. “He said I should tell you he’ll message you in the morning, though I bet you already knew.”

“Alright, no worries, Gem.”

“See you next week, yeah?”

“Sure, goodnight,” Louis grins at the excitement in her sleepy voice, then he hangs up, getting a message from Harry not even three-seconds after.

_ No phone sex for us tonight :( _

Louis snorts.

_ Too bloody bad, should’ve slept in the car xx _

_ Thinking about it, she’s snoring already. _

Louis rolls his eyes, texting back:

_ Sleep well, c u 2morrow luv xx _

He gets back a goodnight text too and then he silences his phone, letting it slip to the ground with a clatter.

Rolling onto his back, he blinks at the ceiling and only when the first rays of sunshine peek through the blinds, he finds a weak excuse of sleep.

 

*    *    * 

 

“S’open!” 

When Louis steps inside the house, he’s greeted with a mouth-watering smell of sweetness that fogs up the air so thick, he could just take a kitchen knife and cut right through it.

He sniffs like a dog, nose wiggling.

“Am I in the right house?” He asks, toeing off his shoes and leaving them in the hallway. “Smells like a bakery in here.” In the living room he places his overnight bag at the foot of the stairs before shuffling over to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as he takes in the scene.

It looks like a bakery too. There are pans and pots and something is already in the oven. There are three bowls on the counter, each a different size, from the largest bowl he’s seen anyone use to a small bowl that could take just the two of his fists.

“Hey.” Harry looks over his shoulder, smiling. He washes his hands and dries them on a thin pink kitchen towel.

“Hey.” Louis echoes back, smirking amused. “What’s all this?”

“Hm, felt like baking,” he answers, turning around and stepping towards Louis.

“What are you making?”

“Caramel cupcakes, Nutella cupcakes…and some filled with apple pieces,” He shrugs his right shoulder. “Simple.”

“Sure,” Louis rolls the word over his tongue slowly. “Simple,” he repeats, observing the workspace once more. This looks anything but simple. This looks like a full blown bake fest like Louis has seen on TV.

“We can do brownies later,” Harry says. “Niall would be over the moon.” 

“Niall will drool all over the floor.” Louis agrees with a smile. “You’ve got…” He trails off, reaching out to wipe some flour off Harry’s cheek. They turn rosy when Louis slides his thumb gently over the skin. 

“Ah, sorry I’m a mess.” Harry smiles bashfully. “I think I got some egg in my hair too.” 

Louis wrinkles his nose, making an ‘ew’ sound. “Proper baker you are,” he says, “I bet your lips taste like sugar now.” He bats his eyelashes.

A slow grin spreads over Harry’s face as he steps closer into Louis' space. “Hmmm, only one way to find—”

Louis' lips cut him off. It’s not quite sugar he tastes, but it’s sweet. If only to get his fact straight about what Harry truly tastes like, he deepens the kiss, cupping Harry’s neck and swiping his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, getting him to open his mouth and let Louis finish his observation. 

Much better, he thinks, sighing into the heat, making Harry moan quietly when his tongue massages over his. 

Louis lets up with the wettest, filthiest slurp he’s ever heard and stands on his heels. 

Harry licks his already spit covered lips. 

Louis leans on the doorframe, letting Harry box him in with his arms either side of his head. He angles his head up so he can maintain eye contact with Harry. 

“What do you think?” Harry asks, kissing Louis' neck. 

“I think, whatever it is that’s in the oven is burning.” 

Harry jolts upright, glancing over his shoulder before pacing over, getting the cupcakes out. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” He exhales, fanning the smoke away and coughing, “This is your fault,” He declares. “I blame you.” 

Louis blinks lazily at him, smirking. “Am I that much of a distraction?” He asks, lifting the hem of his shirt, so he can scratch his stomach. It’s itchy, is all. Obviously. 

Harry tracks the movement, green eyes turning to a shadowed dark as Louis lets his hand slide down to his navel, just putting it there, feeling the warmth of his own skin and the soft hair needling his fingers. 

“You are,” Harry confirms, licking his lips before throwing the cupcakes in the bin. “Get out of my kitchen.” 

“No,” Louis pouts, checking the counter to see if it’s clean before hopping on it, swinging his legs,  heels clicking against the counters cabinet. 

“Alright,” Harry groans, “then let’s do this again.” 

Louis watches Harry work, he whirls some of that, some of this, takes eggs out and cracks them open, milk, flour… he works in silence mostly, sometimes they make chit chat, but Louis is quite alright with just sitting there, looking at Harry. 

Harry pecks his lips when he’s close enough, Louis gets to lick a spoon and makes a show out of it, and in return Harry pinches his sides. 

Harry takes baking more seriously than he does a drug deal. 

Louis treats himself with Nutella, spooning some, licking it lazily, but this time not making eye contact with Harry. 

“Almost done,” Harry informs him as he shoves the last tray into the oven, clapping his hands to brush off flour. 

Louis hums around the spoon. “Great,” he says, waving said spoon around, “what’s next?”

“Hash brownies,” Harry says, grinning. “Niall will come over tonight, by the way, Lara too.” He turns, “Oh, oh — you know who will join us?” 

“Liam?” Louis raises his brows.

Harry shakes his head, “Yeah, him too, but-” his grin grows, “ _ Ivana _ .”

“Uh, oh.” Louis laughs. “This is going to be awkward. Can't wait.” 

“That’s what the brownies are for, I put a good amount of weed in there.”

“Smart boy,” Louis praises, pulling Harry close by his neckline until he’s between his legs, “How much time have we got left?” 

Harry hums in thought, hands finding Louis' waist, squeezing once before kissing his neck, “Hmmm, enough.” 

“Good, because you need a shower.” 

Harry freezes, drawing his head back and narrows his eyes at Louis. “You arsehole,” He laughs out loud. “That’s not what I had in mind.” Arching a brow he plants an open-mouthed kiss on Louis' raised chin, “Although, maybe you could help me a little, get me all clean.” 

Louis pretends to think it over. “I guess I can do that.” He says, wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips.

They spend the time waiting for the last tray of cupcakes to finish baking with shared kisses to each others mouth, necks, cheeks — any part that’s bare and in reach, really. They kiss until their lips are bitten raw and puffy, their cheeks flushed with heat and their cocks interested in more than just some safe-play. 

Louis can’t wait for the damn cupcakes to finish, so he hops off the counter, and in one smooth movement, drops to his knees in front of Harry, pulling the skin tight jeans down around his ankles. 

“Louis,” Harry laughs breathlessly, “Lou,” His surprised laugh turns into a moan as Louis kisses the head of his cock before taking it all in. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” He groans, one hand placed on the counter to keep him upright and the other one buried in the mess of Louis' hair.

They are both worked up enough that it doesn’t take long for Harry to be a whiny mess and he shoots his load down Louis' throat, just in time for the alarm to go off. 

Smug, Louis sits back on the heels of his feet, wiping his mouth whilst Harry presses some buttons to turn the annoying beeping off. Cock still out and pants around his ankles, it's quite the sight. 

“Lemme return the favour,” Harry says when he’s got the tray out. 

“Hm, in the shower.” Louis smirked, standing and kissing Harry's jaw.

Harry finishes up in the kitchen in no time. 

 

*    *    * 

 

A chorus of  _ “Zayn” _ goes around the group as the face of the raven haired boy pops up on screen. 

“’Ello!” He greets, eyes flickering between each of their grinning faces. 

It's a tight fit, but they make it work. Lara is plastered on Niall’s side on the floor, whilst Liam is perched on the sofa. Louis and Harry frame his face on the left and right from their standing spot behind the sofa, glancing on the tiny laptop display, bowing to get a better look at the scene. 

“Good to see you lot,” Zayn says, “s’been awhile, eh?” His brown eyes are circled with dark shadows, but the smile curving on his lips is making up for it. 

“How are you?” Niall asks.

“Any news?” Harry chimes in. 

“I miss you.” Liam pouts.

“Ugh, we all do, twat,” Lara slaps half-heartedly at Liam, who squeaks embarrassingly high. “Move your arse back to Macclesfield,” she says with a roll of her brown eyes, making everyone laugh. 

“I’m good, there is some… _ news _ , yes and I miss you losers too.” Zayn answers, eyes darting to Louis and quickly away. 

He blinks, hoping it was an aimless move from Zayn. Probably not, since it's, well -  _ Zayn _ . 

“How are you?” Zayn asks then.

“We’re good,” Niall is the one to answer, beaming brightly. “As always, we got some hash browns Harry’s made—” 

“I helped.” Louis interjects, slapping the back of Niall’s blond head, earning a round of chuckles. Harry lifts his eyebrows at him as if to say ‘ _ really _ ?’ and Louis sticks out his tongue, affirming ‘ _ really _ .’

“As I was saying,” Niall continues, rubbing his head. “We are good and about to get high as the sky.” 

“Same old, same old,” Lara finishes with a wave of her hand. “Ivana is here too.” 

“Heya!” The girl calls from the terrace, voice floating through the open door with a breeze of cool air. She never really met Zayn, so she said she wanted them to have some time alone, though Lara insisted on her meeting one of her best friends. 

Louis tries not to think too much into that. The situation with Ivana already is awkward enough. He was surprised when the girl actually showed up on their doorstep since he and Harry had a bet going on, over whether she’d make up another excuse as to why she couldn’t come. Both lost, since the bet was about what kind of excuse she’d use, not whether she showed up or not. 

Zayn chuckles, dragging a hand over his pretty face, covering his mouth to hide a yawn. The skin around his eyes wrinkles. 

“When was the last time you got a good night’s rest?” Niall asks, smile slipping. “You look like death, mate.” 

“Why, thank you,” Zayn rolls his eyes, yawning again. “I’m fine. Late nights and early mornings. They needed a driver, I jumped in, had to drive all the way down to the coast.” 

Louis can feel Harry stiffen where their arms are pressed together. He glances at him briefly, Harry catching his eye. Louis lifts an eyebrow in question and Harry directs his attention back to the screen, a line between his brows. Louis purses his lips to keep the words in that are burning all the way back down his throat. 

“Will you visit soon?” Lara pouts, playing with her hair. 

Zayn shakes his head. “Sorry, I can’t. There is a lot going on…in London.” Dark eyes land on Louis, then Harry. “Actually, Harry, Louis, I really need to talk to you about something.” 

All their heads turn towards Harry and he frowns, eyes never leaving the screen but his fingers touch Louis, as if he needs something to hold on. 

“Alright,” Harry says with a curt nod, “let’s get to it before we’re high.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Zayn agrees. “But tell me more, c’mon. I feel like I’m missing out.” 

“There is nothing more going on.” Harry says.

“Oh yeah? Hear, hear.” Zayn grins, “I know you two are together.” His pointer finger moves from Louis to Harry and back.

Louis blushes. “We would’ve told you…eventually.”

“You know that Liam tells me, right? There are no secrets in this group and we all know it.” 

“We all made a promise,” Lara says, “besides Louis…obviously.” 

Louis wants to ask what kind of promise it is but he keeps his mouth shut. Zayn is on a tight schedule and he probably has to get back to work. 

“Ed’s concert is next weekend.” Niall informs not only Zayn but the group as a whole. 

Harry had mentioned something about Ed’s gig a week ago or so, but Louis had all but forgotten about it. 

“I can’t come,” Zayn hangs his head sadly, ruffling his messed up hair. “I wish I could, I love the lad. Haven’t talked to him in a while, actually.” 

They make more chit chat, until Zayn’s eyes rest on Harry and Louis more often than not and the others get the hint, leaving them to business. 

When the others close to the door to the terrace, Louis and Harry take the seats on the sofa. Zayn clears his throat. 

“How are you Louis?” He starts calmly. 

Louis frowns at the question, eyes flickering in uncertainty to Harry, then back to the screen. “I’m…good? Why?” 

Zayn gives him a look that even looks intimidating through the glimmering display. 

“What? You guys talk behind my back now?” Louis snaps, crossing his arms and leaning back, huffing. He flinches from Harry’s hand as the boy tries to pat his thigh and ignores the hurt that flashes over Harry’s face. 

Zayn sighs, “How the hell could we not worry about you mate? Harry told me about your breakdown at the party.” Louis stiffens. “How you holding up with the drug selling? You think it’s a good idea to continue?” 

“I’m not quitting.” He won’t leave Harry’s side - only over his dead body. 

Zayn bites his lips, like he expected that. 

“I’m fine.” Louis says, when silence stretches between the three. “I’m trying my best.” 

“He really is.” Harry agrees softly. 

Zayn stares at Harry and again, Louis feels like they have a silent conversation with their eyes, he feels a tad left out as they level each other up. He sighs, leaning more against Harry’s side. They mean only good, after all. Louis can’t be mad because his friends are actually doing their job as friends. 

“‘kay.” Zayn says shortly, nodding. “Whatever, you guys better know what you’re doing, since I can’t help from London.” 

“Have you heard anything new about the situation with Hawk and Nick?” Louis asks. 

Zayn blinks. 

“We don’t have that mind reading thing going on Zayn - if you wanna tell me something, spill.” Louis huffs, Harry chuckles, and Zayn cracks a smile. 

“I ran into Nick, he’s good.” He says eventually, “His usual arrogant self, pretended he didn’t know me at first.” 

“Sounds like Nick.” Louis nods.

“Yeah, whatever, he wanted to buy drugs off me in the end, so.” Zayn shrugs, another smile ghosting over his lips. “He’s in debt big time.” 

“This isn’t good news.” 

“Not for him.” Zayn and Harry share a look. 

“Am I missing something?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry says quickly, kissing his temple. “He’s alive, that’s what matters, right?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good thing for him to be in debt to a drug dealer, c’mon.” Louis swallows, “What the fuck?” 

“Drop it, Lou.” Zayn frowns. “I don’t have time for this. Leave the business to the actual dealers.” 

Louis stiffens, detaching himself from Harry. “Then I’ll be outside, with the junkies, right? Where I belong?”

“Louis…” Harry whispers. “C’mon he didn’t mean it like that.” 

“He did.” Louis smiles sweetly at Zayn. “Did the same with me, eh?” 

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. He rubs his chin, confused. “What are you on about Louis?”

“I was in debt to you, too.” He explains, folding his hands together and averting his eyes. “You played me, didn't you?”

“Louis this is bullshit.” Harry mutters, fingers reaching out to touch Louis’ hand. “You know it's not-”

He gets cut off by Zayn. “You're fishing here, you twat.” 

Louis' head snaps up, taking in Zayn’s small amused smile. 

“How could I know your bloody account was frozen, eh?” 

Louis purses his lips. Well. Zayn had a point there. 

“Besides, Lou you bloody know I love you. You're my best mate, eh?”

“Then do something about Nick, Zee, because he is  _ my _ friend. And I won't let you just sit by whilst he gets beaten up.” 

“Hm.” 

“I swear Zayn-”

“Let's not, Louis, c’mon.” Harry interrupts quickly. “I'll talk to him alone now, yes?” 

Louis inhales, forces a smile at Zayn and sends another fake smile at Harry. 

There is a second of silence, then -

“Anyway, stay alive mate.” He gets up, wiggling his fingers at the screen, hearing Zayn’s broken sigh coming through the speakers as Harry calls after him. 

Louis grits his teeth together and closes the glass door behind him. Whatever. It hurts, but it’s whatever right? It's not like he can do anything from Macclesfield. 

“Louis,” Niall smiles, “alright, mate?” 

“Fine.” Louis huffs. 

“What d’you think is it about?” Lara questions, slinging her arm around Ivana’s shoulder, pulling her close. 

“Drugs.” Niall’s grins. “Don’t think they exchange makeup tips.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Hmm, wouldn’t be too sure of that - have you seen Zayn’s eyelashes?” 

Liam makes a small sound in the back of his throat, “It’s all natural,” He chirps happily, “not like Harry’s hair.” 

“Oi, Harry has great hair, sorry you just had to shave all of yours because Zayn left.” Louis takes the cigarette Liam is offering.

Liam touches his head, as if he’s forgotten his hair is just a short buzz cut. 

He pouts, “Zayn said he likes it.” 

“Sure he did.” Fuck Zayn, seriously. 

When Louis' cigarette is lit up and the conversations flow over him, he risks a glance inside. Harry’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, to get a better look at the screen. He gestures with his hands as he talks, leaning even closer to the screen. 

Louis frowns, taking a calming drag. 

“What movie should we watch?” 

“I wanna go to the pub, Liam, don’t be boring.” Niall grins despite his words, “I wanna have fun and be young and…”

“Stay up all night?” Lara raises a brow. 

“Yeah, young and wild and find myself a bird.” 

“Niall, the poet,” Louis laughs, mood lifting now that nicotine flows in his veins. “Beautiful,” he sends a cloud of smoke out of his pursed lips. 

Lara, Ivana and Liam team up for staying in, while Niall discusses the topic enough for three imaginary people on his team. He doesn’t get far, though.

Liam wants to stay in because he misses Zayn and would rather not be drinking.

Lara wants to stay in because Ivana has to leave early in the morning, which means Ivana is on her side on this. 

Louis stays quiet, thoughts circling more around Nick, Zayn, and Harry than drinking and pubs or movies. He finishes his cig and only when he throws it away does he realise they are all looking at him. 

“You want my opinion?” He asks and they nod (it’s a bit creepy how well they do it in unison), so he glances inside again. Harry is still talking to Zayn, so he looks back at the group, “Niall, literally everybody wants to stay in, but you.” 

“I need new friends,” Niall exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, outraged. 

“Your new friends won’t bake you hash browns filled with the best of weed,” Louis grins, slinging his arm around Niall’s bony shoulder. “Think again, you’ll be missing out.” 

“I haven’t gotten laid in ages,” Niall whines, nose pressing in Louis' neck. “I need some action.” 

“It’s been, like, a week.” Louis says. 

“You get laid on a daily basis, you have no room to talk about sexual frustration.” Niall huffs. 

Louis bobs his head, pursing his lips. “Fair enough.” 

“Wait for the weekend,” Liam says, blinking unimpressed, “We’re all gonna go to the gig at the club…is it a club?” 

No one remembers, so they shrug. 

“Anyway, you’ll find a girl on the weekend, Manchester is a better place to pull than Macclesfield.” Liam finishes, just when Louis observes Harry closing the laptop.

Niall doesn’t protest, because Liam has a point and Louis is over this conversation. He wants to asks Harry what that was about, he wants to know. 

He wants to get back to Harry, so he does, tugging Niall along. 

 

***    *    ***

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave kudos and/or a comment if you liked it, that'd be lovely* 
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed chapter 12, let me know your thoughts! loads of loveeee xxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday!! I am so sorry I didn't upload last week but life is stressful and my beta has exams coming up, so a massive, massive thank you to her for still editing, she's truly amazing! Anyway - I really hope you guys enjoy Chapter 13, joyful reading! xxx

 

 

***    *    ***

 

“Why can’t we go?” Louis asks, putting his hands on his hips, brows drawn so tightly together it stings. 

“Because I say so,” Harry shoots back, cheeks flushed and the vein on his throat flexing. He folds his arms across his puffed out chest, levelling Louis with a death-stare. 

Louis holds his breath, holds it trapped in his lungs, his heart pounding against his ribcage like it wants to break free. He hates fighting with Harry. He thought that they were over this, that they now talk things out…apparently not so much.

“Because…you say so,” Louis repeats slowly, lifting his brows, shoulders hunching. “All right, Dad. I’m going up to my room, am I allowed?”

“C’mon, Lou. Don’t do this.” Harry groans, arms falling to his sides.

Louis snorts unimpressed, “Tell me one good reason why everyone else can go but us?”

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it again. He clenches his jaw, the sharp bones that Louis adores so much jutting out, like he’s afraid the words will escape his lips without his permission.

Louis blinks, once, twice, then he nods. “Right.” Louis huffs, “Okay. You won’t tell me, so I won’t be talking to you until you give me some better explanation than ‘We can’t, because I say so’, which, let’s be honest, is no explanation at all.” With a tired sigh, he turns away from Harry, walking up the stairs with heavy feet.

It doesn’t take long until a shadow appears in the doorway of the bedroom. Louis glances at Harry, then continues pulling on a clean, white shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks dolefully, voice breaking at the end. His brows knit together, almost touching. “Are — Are you leaving?”

Fussing annoyed with his fringe that’s hung in his eyes, he shrugs nonchalantly. “Yes. I’m mad at you and you won’t talk to me like an actual adult,” Louis says, shouldering his duffle bag, “so, I’m leaving.”

Harry’s lip juts out and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Don’t,” He pleads brokenly. “Just stay here…you can take the bedroom. Just don’t leave.”

“Harry,” Louis warns, crestfallen.

It’s Friday, one day before Ed’s gig and their friends are talking about nothing else. His good mood dropped when he bought it up this morning, asking if they were going to take the car or train, and Harry threw casually in that they wouldn’t be going. Obviously, this was news to Louis’ ears but Harry won’t tell him why and no one can blame Louis for putting up a fight, right? It led them to standing across from each other yelling and pulling their own hair in frustration. It’s their first fight, - since Harry confronted him about the coke in the bathroom, that is.

Harry is kind of scary, when he’s angry. It’s all flashy eyes and cold huffs, crossed arms and his voice roaring like a cornered lion, ready to attack. Louis is not actually afraid of Harry, he knows Harry would rather hurt himself than touch Louis in a hurtful way, but it all gives Louis a headache and he’s done fighting. This won’t bring them anywhere but apart and before this it gets too heated, he’s going to leave it be, clear his head, take a walk and a hot shower and when Harry is ready to talk things over, he’ll be back at the house the moment Harry calls.

“Okay, I can’t keep you here,” Harry gives in with hunched shoulders. “Have a good day.” He steps inside the bedroom, freeing the exit in defeat.

Although it’s exactly what Louis wanted mere minutes ago, the words sit wrong with him, the sound of Harry’s voice too tight. It sends chills down Louis' spine. He stays put, observing the pout of Harry’s bottom lip and the way he avoids looking directly at Louis. There is no sign of anger anymore, only sadness, and Louis can’t leave his boy looking like that.  

“You know I’ll come back, right? This is the end of this fight, not of us.” He tries to make clear, carefully.

Harry lifts his chin, the challenging look back in the green of his eyes. “You don’t trust me anyway, so…” He shrugs too casually. “Just go then. Leave.”

Louis frowns. “How can I trust you when you’re not talking to me?”

There is tension filled silence where they level each other with a glare.

“This is about what Zayn told you.” Louis states. Harry hasn’t said anything about the conversation he’s held with Zayn on Skype the other night when the friends went outside for a smoke, Harry wouldn’t tell him, no matter how many times Louis asked. Also the question of whether Harry was okay was dodged. If Harry is good at something, it’s dodging questions.

Now, though, Harry nods and Louis places his bag on the floor.

“So tell me,” Louis says, trying for a light tone. He steps backwards until he hits the edge of the bed with his knees. He sinks down on the mattress, looking up at Harry with raised brows. “How bad can it be?”

Turns out, very bad, apparently.

Harry’s face crumbles and Louis is on his feet in a second, rushing by Harry’s side as the younger boy rubs his face with an angry hand. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes, slinging arms around his own middle, like he’s trying to hold himself together. There is a hot stream of tears running down his cheeks, like he’s a balloon filled with water and someone picked at it with a needle and in an instant, the balloon explodes and water splashes everywhere.

Louis' own throat tightens at the sight. His heart breaks a bit and his hand hovers over Harry’s shoulder, unsure of if he’s allowed to touch or if Harry needs space. Bloody hell, Louis wishes he was better at the emotional part of being human.

Harry makes it easy though, as a moment later he turns his body to Louis, folding himself in Louis' arms, nose buried in Louis' neck and arms tight around Louis' middle. The sobs that fall from his lips are muffled against Louis' wet skin. Louis holds him closer, closer,  _ closer _ . It’s all not good enough and he pushes his nose in the brown waves of Harry’s hair, smelling the familiar cologne and the faint scent of weed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Harry weeps throatily. “Louis I am so unbelievably sorry.”

“Harry, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, love.” Louis croaks. “Is it about the gig? If you really don’t wanna go, it’s alright, it’s all good.”

Harry shakes his head first, then he nods.

“Tell me, baby.” Louis hushes softly, hands rubbing up and down Harry’s spine, feeling each knot under his fingertips. “C’mon let's sit down.”

They cuddle together on the bed, and it takes a while for Harry to bring his breathing back under control. When his sobs ebb into quiet sniffles, he buries his pretty, reddened face against Louis' chest, like he’s scared that Louis will get up any minute and just leave him.

In the state Harry is in, Louis would rather boil alive.

Louis continues rubbing circles on Harry’s back and switches to drawing aimless patterns over the fabric of Harry’s shirt until the boy’s breaths are even and there is no sniffling but soft panting.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He murmurs, brushing Harry’s hair away from his forehead.

“You’ll hate me.” Harry responses quietly, pressing closer.

Louis' fingers stop, but pick up a second later. “I could never.” Louis vows.

He feels Harry swallow, “I’m sorry.”

“For what are you sorry, love?” Louis asks patiently.

Harry draws a big inhale, then he sits up, crossing his legs under his bum and rubbing the heel of his hand in his closed eye. The other eye blinks at Louis, then he sniffles again and rolls both eyes heavenwards.

“Zayn told me…” he starts, “uh…they  _ know _ .”

Louis eyebrows furrow. “They know?”

Harry nods once.

“That…I sell drugs?” Louis guesses, sitting upright.

Harry nods again, then shakes his head and his face starts to crumble again.

“I’m sorry, I said I would keep you safe…and I — I failed.” His bottom lip starts to wobble dangerously and Louis takes Harry’s large hand in his own, slotting his fingers between Harry’s slender ones and squeezing softly.

“ _ I am _ safe though.” Louis protests, not quite understanding yet. “I mean, alright, they know I am the one who helps you out but…that doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I promised you, they wouldn’t find out.” Harry brittles, “And now they know and I have no idea what they will do.”

“Since when do they know? Who found out?”

Harry avoids his gaze. He looks to the side, out of the window, then shrugs. His free finger rubs under his running nose.

Louis sighs, pinching the bridge of his own nose. “Tell me.”

Before Harry says anything, he makes a good guess, since it could only be one person.

“Hawk.” Harry confirms his thought and Louis exhales shakily, “He's seen you deal with this bloke and he reported back. First he thought you were some dealer from the other…gang.” Harry shakes his head. “But Zayn told him you belong to us, so they wouldn’t go after you, because you sold in our part.”

“Christ,” Louis breaths, “that…isn’t too bad though?”

“Our…boss wants to meet you.”

“Okay, I take it back. That sounds bad.” Louis blinks. “Why haven't you told me?”

“Didn’t want to scare you off.” Harry admits. “I guess.”

“Is that why you kept me in the house all week?” Louis asks. “You’ve done all our deals on your own. I thought it was because of, y’know, the party?”

Harry shakes his head. “It's not because what happened at the party. I know it's hard, I told Zayn about it because addicts usually are drivers not dealers and, I thought, here I am wanting to help you but I make it much harder.” He sniffles. “I didn’t know how…to like…say it? How to tell you? I promised I’d keep you safe and undercover and I failed and this all was a  _ bad _ fucking idea.”

Louis sighs. “Well, I mean I made that choice myself right? You told me no and I pushed you. Don’t shake your head Harry, you know it’s true. And because we can’t travel back in time, let’s just…not go there, besides it's bloody hard either way, yeah?” Louis declares, clearing his throat, he asks softly, “What happens now?” 

He doesn’t get an answer, instead Harry says with an almost toneless voice, “They know…we’re together.” 

Louis isn't really surprised at them connecting the dots. Neither of them have been subtle in public. However, there is a bigger concern in Louis' mind about the subject. “Are we together, Harry?” He asks, drawing his hand from Harry’s grip. 

They never talked about this either. What did they talk ever talk about aside from pain and their past and unimportant shit? 

“I want to be with you,” Harry states with a certain nod. Then his intense gaze drops down to his folded hands. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.” 

“I want to be with you too.” Louis says with a happy smile, and despite the gloomy mood, his heart swells in his chest. 

This is the worst time to talk about it, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when Harry pulls him into his chest. 

“We will figure something out,” Louis whispers like it’s a secret. “You have to tell me if something goes wrong, I need to know that. We’re partners, remember?”

Harry nods, cheek pressed against the top of Louis' head. “Sorry.” He murmurs. 

“Stop saying sorry.” Louis scoffs playfully. 

“Sorry…” 

They both chuckle quietly. 

Harry kisses Louis' hair, and Louis kisses his collarbone because it’s the only part of Harry he can reach, Harry’s arms holding him tight. 

“What now?” Louis asks leading their conversation back to the original topic, though he’d love to talk more about  _ HarryandLouis _ . To make it up for it, he sits back, taking Harry with him, so Harry lies on top of him. The weight is a grounding feeling, exactly what Louis needs right now - grounding. Because, though his heart is the size of his whole body, it has also started to flicker anxiously just thinking about what could happen and what could go wrong. 

Before answering, Harry snuggles closer, pressing his thigh between Louis' legs and nosing at the bare skin on Louis' collarbone. 

“I don’t really know.” Harry sighs in Louis' neck. “We could just take a nap, maybe after that all the problems will be gone.”

Louis likes Harry’s way of thinking. Louis' own life motto is: ignore all the problems until they fix themselves. Louis smiles, wishing it would actually work like that.

However, Louis is exhausted from the whole fight and the lack of sleep he’s gotten the whole bloody week…the whole bloody month. No, no let's be honest, the entire year. So yeah, a nap sounds great. “We could try,” He gives in easily, already closing his eyes.

Harry grins against his skin, “Boyfriends.” He mumbles, Louis kissing his cheek blindly, humming in response.

They fall asleep like that, tangled from head to toe, pressed flushed and warm.

Maybe they will wake up to the end of the world, but at least for the time being they are okay. More so, they are together, exclusive, and maybe that makes it all okay. This bedroom is their little safe bubble, their safe haven and nothing can harm them here in the cloud of a bed.

They are together and that’s more worth than his own life.

 

*    *    *

 

Louis hasn’t left the house for a full week. He’s ignoring Lottie’s texts and calls, smoothing the guilty knot in his stomach with the explanation that he’s probably being watched and going to Lottie would put her in danger. 

Niall and Lara came for a few visits, Liam is on vacation with his family and Niall has plans to visit his aunt and uncle in Ireland in about a week. Therefore they spent a lot of time together, they get high more often than not and watch the most crappy movies they can find, eating junk food and ordering in, so they don’t have to leave the house too much. 

Both of them are hanging more around at Harry’s home than Louis’ boy himself; he visits his mum and Gemma in Manchester (Gemma lives with her boyfriend over the summer, since she moved out of her little flat) and Harry does all the drug deals by himself too. It sits wrong with Louis but after they had another fight about the whole topic, Louis gave up. The argument that Harry is probably safer out there without Louis by his side set another feeling in his stomach loose and he distracts himself with sleep if he’s completely alone in the too big and too quiet house since everyone else still has a life outside Friendship and Getting High and Movies like jobs and family and girlfriends, or for Niall, late night booty calls. 

It’s been a slow bloody week, to put it nicely, it’s boring and Louis hates being alone. He hates it more than he lets on. When Harry kisses him goodbye, Louis tries not to think, but it’s not working and nothing helps, really. Sleep only can last so long and the bloody painkillers are gone just like the warmth Harry took with him when he left the house. 

It’s hard, being alone. 

He cracks halfway through. It was an accident, he was looking for his second sock, kneeling on the floor of the bedroom, and lunging forward under the bed, he didn't find his sock but a shoe box. If Louis is anything, it’s nosy - and yeah, well he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not right to snoop in your boyfriends stuff - it’s hidden for a reason. 

But… maybe Louis found the box for a reason as well. That’s what he tells himself when he places the box on his lap, fingers hovering over the carton, like it actually could burn him if he dares to touch it. He runs a finger over the case, just to check. His finger tingles but it’s not set alight in a flame, so. That’s another reason to open the damn box. If it’s a diary or…pictures, whatever.  _ Personal stuff _ , that is, he will close it instantly.  

Louis hums, glancing at the open door, but of course he is his own company, so he shrugs to himself, opening it and peaking inside. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, heart pounding harder the longer he looks at it. His throat starts to itch as his eyes roam over the little packets of pills, weed and at least a hundred grams of cocaine. 

It’s a lot. Like…this is what he expects to see when he dies and goes up to heaven. Because, this…this is truly  _ angelic _ . 

Also, it could send directly Harry to jail for a lifetime. 

It takes three more disbelieving blinks of his lashes until the shock has worn off and his mouth starts to water. This is bad, this is so, so bad. His fingers twitch helplessly in the air, unsure what to do next, where they belong.

Of course he knew Harry had drugs in the house… _ somewhere _ , but he’s never seen him get them. He probably packed his backpack when Louis was in the bathroom or elsewhere. Louis knows Harry trusts Louis with a lot, just not with drugs…and looking at it now, he’s done it right, hiding this from Louis all this time because…Louis has no self-control when he’s alone, to be completely honest. 

Right now, he is alone, Harry is out (again) and Louis is not strong enough, he is just not. He doesn’t even think it through when he gets one pack of coke out, he doesn’t think about anything but the feeling in his stomach, the relief that frees his chest, and the pounding of his heart. 

“Hello old friend,” He coos at the pack happily, holding it in front of his face and grinning like a mad man, “long time no see.” Chuckling breathlessly, he gets up, poking his head out of the door to check if there is any noise coming from downstairs — obviously there is no sound, no steps, no ‘hello, I’m home’ calls…so he closes the door, shuddering an exhale. 

Returning to his previous position on the mattress, he wets his finger, sticking it in the pack of crystal clear cocaine. He mutters a shaky “ _ Fuck _ ,” when he feels the snow cling to his skin. For a moment, Louis is too awestruck to do anything more than enjoy the feeling of it, shutting his eyes he sighs quietly. It’s like sinking into a bathtub filled with hot streaming water after a long and freezing winter’s day. 

Then, with the words ‘finally, finally,  _ finally _ ’ running on loop in his head, he brings his finger to his awaiting mouth, rubbing the snow on his gums, feeling them numb instantly. He does it again, and again and when he’s at this third round of spreading the coke, his shoulders loosen. The tension down his spine flies out of the window. Swallowing it all down his dry throat, he blinks his eyes open, unable to keep them any longer shut.

A dopey smile spreads on his face and he shakes his shoulders and welcomes the buzz that starts prickling under his skin. His grin widens as his feet drag over the floor. He swings to a stand, which feels so much like a plane taking off the ground and he spins around, carelessly placing everything he took out back into the shoebox and then shoving it under the bed. 

With the newly won energy, he skips his steps as he makes his way down the hallway, down the stairs and into the kitchen. He has no idea what he wants in here, but seeing the mess he’s left this morning and the prior evening, his body already has a plan. He gets to work, starting with the dishes that are left in the sink. Turning on the radio on full volume, he sways his hips to the beat, grinning as he dries the plate with the softest kitchen towel he’s ever felt. 

Done with the dishes in no time, he purses his lips. 

The counter could use a wash, too. He thinks, and before he knows it, he mops the floor, cleans the breakfast island and opens the window to clean out the burning smell that’s still in the air from this very morning. Distracting Harry whilst he’s making pancakes really wasn’t a brilliant idea. 

Satisfied with how clean and beautiful the country kitchen looks now, he nods to himself and when a good bubblegum-pop song comes on the radio, he sings along, uses the whole of his lungs and moonwalks to the sink, throwing the dirty cloth in and turning in a full circle, his feet shuffling over the floor easily. 

All the rubbish that is left, he throws out in the bin outside, enjoying the warm sun that kisses his skin. It’s a really beautiful day, he thinks, looking up into the blue sky that is dotted with little cotton clouds. He’s still got a lot of energy and buzzing left in his body and he knows he won’t be able to sit still for another half an hour or so. 

What does one do when it’s a great day and for the first time in ages there is actually a feeling of power vibrating in the body.

Football, that’s what. 

Louis knows that Harry has a ball — somewhere. They played with the lads a couple of days ago (Lara and Louis on one team, Harry and Niall on the other), and Lara and Louis won — obviously, Niall is a good player but very distracted, always starting to laugh the moment Harry stumbled or tripped over his own feet. Lara is just as goal-orientated as Louis, so they won 3:1. 

Humming under his breath, he opens the garage. The grey floor is cold under his bare feet as he walks into the empty space. There are gardening tools, some plastic chairs, a ladder…Louis stops, there is paint too, stocked above some box, there are cans of spray-paint, the kind used for r graffiti. In the box there are brushes and pencils, weird white chalk sticks that are too soft to be actual chalk. Louis purses his lips, shrugging. He knows Harry is an artist, and he’d been wondering where he has all his artist stuff, anyway. 

Louis needs to ask him why he’s hiding it in the garage when the house is so big. 

He turns, blinking. 

“Hm, what?” He asks out loud, scratching the top of his head in confusion, blinking some more he hums, spinning in a circle. Why is he in the garage? He knows he wanted to get something. What was it again? He pauses, pursing his lips as his eyes fall on a football on a white plastic chair. Louis widens his eyes, snipping his fingers. “ _ Bingo _ ,” He grins, skipping over and holding the ball under his armpit.

Closing the garage, he doesn’t bother going back into the house, just takes the little path around it which leads to the green garden. The grass is shadowed by trees and it still smells like wet grass and a whole lot like summer.

Louis fills his lungs with air and lets the ball fall to his feet. He gives it a kick that sends the football flying high, greeting the sky. He catches it easily when it comes back down and jogs along the ground, letting the football roll from one side to the other of the inner side of his feet.

Louis does some lazy tricks, letting the ball bounce on his knee and chest. He head-butts it, and sends it with a hard kick to the terrace. He chuckles breathlessly as he runs after it, enjoying the wind in his face that cools down his heated skin.

It’s so, so much  _ fun _ . He is having the most fun he’s had in ages — that’s what it feels like anyway — and he loses completely track of time, just running after the ball more than anything else, because there is no one he could kick with, but it doesn’t matter. His overheated body welcomes the chilly breeze as the sun sets low on the horizon.

He only stops when his heart rate slows down until he can’t feel any of the buzz left in his veins and his blood is not rushing in his ears that loudly anymore. His kicks become a tad sloppy, he misses the ball twice. Inhaling deeply and exhaling all at once, the strength he’s had mere minutes ago is burned out and his limbs are much heavier now. Flopping down on the grass, he places the football on the centre of his stomach. Sighing, Louis closes his eyes, enjoying the silence around him and the rays of sun licking at his sweaty face.

There is nothing left of the effects from the coke. All the energy is drained from running around. Louis shouldn’t be surprised that there is a tug in his stomach, he shouldn’t be surprised of the way his shoulders hunch with the put-back-on weight of everything and nothing. He is surprised though, because this is the first time in ages that he’s done coke and he missed the feeling of it, but the aftermath…is something he absolutely did not miss at all.

Louis always got like this…a little depressed puddle after he was coked-up, so this is not a new thing. The only thing that is different is that Zayn would be usually by his side, ready with a blunt or cig to offer because Zayn…Zayn knew, he always did. But Zayn is not here with his magic offerings and gentle hazel brown eyes. He is in London, not with Louis.

Sudden homesickness is like a punch in the guts. Louis — Louis misses London. It’s the first time his thoughts have wandered in that direction, since he’s started seeing Harry. Of course there is always a little sad tingling in the back of his head, when they are in Manchester and it all feels so much like London, whilst in reality, it really, really is anything but.

The best thing about London is the freedom, Louis figures, also the people who don’t care that he’s sniffing coke right in front of them…they just wait for their turn. He misses getting pissed to the point where everything is just a blur and he can’t tell who his friend is and who’s just after his name and the money that comes with it. In the end it doesn’t matter because he’d had arms that held him upright and some bloke snogging him in a dirty or not so dirty bathroom stall. It never mattered who it was as long as he made Louis forget.

Now, thinking about kissing someone that’s not Harry makes his stomach turn and as much as he misses London, he doesn’t miss shagging randoms. He wants to go to London, but only if Harry is at his side, dancing against him and Harry is the one snogging him in some posh or run-down bathroom. Either way, it's not about the whole buzz anymore but about Harry. Harry let him into his little world, and now Louis craves to show Harry the greatness of his favourite city. 

Then Louis muses. He can’t even pay for a drink in any of the fancy clubs anymore, frozen bank account and all. 

Maybe they could go to some random shabby pub, London has plenty of those. With some bloke no one’s heard of before, singing on a little stage, but everyone is happy to listen to his music, or maybe it’s a girl with a guitar slung around her shoulder, swinging her hair over her shoulder whilst she sings her heart out and everyone is on their feet, dancing and laughing and clapping for her. 

That could be fun too. Everything would be fun with Harry. 

Louis wouldn’t run into anyone he knows, and Harry would hold him the whole night. They could be happy in London, too. Harry would enjoy London more than Macclesfield or Manchester. Harry is born to be surrounded by happy people. 

Louis isn’t happy.

With that thought, the weight of what he just did comes crashing down on him. It’s like the football on his chest is heavier than it looks and it’s weighing down on his lungs, making it hard to swallow the air though he’s outside. 

Louis messed up. Louis is not strong enough to be happy on his own. 

Sure, he is happy with Harry, but without him, he is not. 

That cannot be healthy, Louis frowns, but before he’d met Harry he’d never been happy when sober, so maybe it’s a small step forward, yeah? 

He makes a mental note to only take drugs when Harry is not home and when Harry is with Louis, he’d just get high on the feeling of Harry by his side, he’d get high on the sunshine smile that Harry sends his way. Harry is the best drug Louis has ever had in his bloodstream. Harry makes Louis the happiest he’s ever been. 

“What are you doing?” His favourite of all drugs asks, amusement clear in his voice and then there is a shadow right hovering over Louis' face. He slowly cracks one eye open. 

Maybe it’s the aftermath, maybe his brain is really too sleepy to process his thoughts correctly, but what Louis is seeing cannot be human. He’s sure of that. 

It’s an angel with a halo of wild curls that frame its angelic face, the sun letting the green of his eyes sparkle, like a reflection on water. His skin even glows, tanned from the days spent outside, tattoos on his arms on display, the black ink still sticking out so beautifully. There is a soft aura around Harry when he’s himself, soft and gentle with so much energy that he could lighten up the whole sky just with his smile. 

Yeah, Louis absolutely is gone for his boy. 

“Hi,” Louis rasps. His throat hurts, he needs something to drink.

“Hey,” Harry arches his brows, but the amusement doesn’t leave his face.

“You’re back.”

“Sure am,” Harry sighs, sitting down on the grass next to Louis' outstretched legs. 

“How was it?” Louis asks, forcing his upper body up. He doesn’t get far, all his limbs feel too heavy. He props himself on his elbows. The football rolls off his stomach, nudging Harry’s bare toes. 

Harry shrugs casually. “The usual,” He says, playing with the ball between his fingers, “easy.” He grins, “What about you? Bored?” 

“Very,” Louis rolls his eyes. If only he knew, he thinks, forcing the guilt to die in his stomach. 

“What did you do all day? Sunbathe?” 

Louis huffs. “Yeah, worked on my tan, do you see the difference?” 

Harry’s eyes flicker over his face, across his arms and neck until they hang on Louis' eyes again. 

“Yeah, you’re golden now.” Harry grins, dimple carved in his cheek. 

“A star,” Louis gushes, batting his eyelashes lazily. 

“The most beautiful of them all,” Harry agrees with a serious nod.

“My cum is stardust,” Louis says, coaxing surprised giggles out of Harry. Louis grins, “What does that taste like?”

“Hm,” Harry smirks smugly, “let's see.” He leans forward, getting on his knees, upper body hovering over Louis. “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Louis giggles breathlessly as Harry growls in his neck, biting the spot. His laughter fade to little moans as Harry starts rolling his hips against his, and his eyes flutter shut as quick fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers.

Yeah, Louis feels like a star quite literally, when Harry takes him into his warm and wet mouth. He’s never seen the universe so close. This is the best high he’s had all day long.

 

*    *    *

 

“Harry, there is a crater in your cheek.” Louis whispers softly just like when he’d tell a secret, poking said crater with his index-finger, giggling when it deepens even more. It’s magnificent. 

“Does that mean, I’m the moon?” Harry hushes, teeth sinking in his plush bottom lip.

“Yes,” Louis affirms seriously, nodding.

“I quite like that.” Harry grins. “What about the sun? Are you my sun?”  

“Because your world turns around me?” Louis waggles his eyebrows, coaxing breathless giggles out of Harry. Sobering, Louis frowns in thought. “I’m your star, though. Remember?”

“I do.”

“Also, you know there are no poems about the sun, right? I mean when you look into the sun, your eyes hurt. When you look at the moon or the stars at night, they’re the best company then, yeah?”

“What do you know about poetry, Lou?” Harry laughs, rolling onto his stomach.

Louis frowns slightly, “Well...not much, actually.” His eyes dart to the bedside drawer, remembering the poetry book he’d found sitting in the middle drawer awhile back. “But, that’s not my point. There might be poems about the sun...what do I know? I was in business class not literature.” Both laugh at that. “However, if you’re the sun and I’m a star, we’d never get see each other. Moon and star is so much more meaningful. I prefer nighttime over daylight.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Me, too.”

“See,” Louis says, waving a hand around in the air, “you make me shine, Harry.” He carries on, quieter.

“You shine bright enough on your own,” Harry frowns, deep shadows building on his face. “You don’t need me.”

Louis snorts, wanting to dismiss it and move on. The light mood has turned somber and Louis doesn’t want that, he wants to feel loose and up in the sky, not on earth, surrounded by reality. Talking about the stars and the moon is a much more preferred conversation than talking about himself.

Harry seems to get the hint, giving in and letting it drop with a small sigh. “C’mere, you’re too far away.” He mutters, his large hand covering Louis' waist. It creeps to Louis' back, pulling Louis close to his chest. He goes willingly, too pleased to be able to smell Harry’s warmth to pout about being manhandled so easily. With a sigh of his own, Louis nuzzles Harry’s neck, feet brushing against Harry’s naked shins.

“Maybe no one is writing about the sun because it’s untouchable. Burning everyone and everything that gets too close to it.” Louis mumbles, after a long moment. “It’s a ball of hot anger.”

“A ball of hot anger,” Harry repeats, blowing air out of his nose that tickles Louis' ear, “Hmm.”

“The sun wants to be left alone.” Louis continues, finger wandering over Harry’s bicep. He feels Harry shiver against him.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, I do.” Louis nods minutely. “I think the sun is mad at the night, because the most beautiful things happen at nighttime. People are the happiest at nighttime.”

“I can’t disagree, I love the night more than the day but I don’t think the sun is jealous.”

“Why?”

“Because there are beautiful things in the daytime too.”

“Like what?” Louis wrinkles his nose, thinking about work and responsibilities.

“Well,  _ birds _ , you can see the  _ clouds _ better, at nighttime you don’t appreciate them as much because you can’t see the stars. When I was little, Gemma and I always were laying in the grass, like you did, and we were cloud-watching all day long.” Harry smiles. “It used to be the highlight of my summer days, just spending time with her and guessing what the clouds were.”

“That’s beautiful, Harry,” Louis says.

“See, day is just as nice as night.”

“Rain is more beautiful at night,” Louis muses. “When Lottie and I were little, we used to sit in my dad’s home office with tea and we watched the rain outside. Sometimes we’d fall asleep there and then. It’s soothing.”

“Rain is just as poetic as the night or the stars.” Harry whispers. “Just like the clouds or the birds.”

“How can bird be poetic?” Louis wonders out loud.

“They are free.” Harry mumbles. “Most people aren’t.”

_ Like you, _ Louis wants to say,  _ like me _ .

They are both tied down, caged in.

“What about the birds that live in cages?” Louis asks in the darkness of the room.

“Hm,” Harry kisses the crown of Louis' head, fingers drawing little patterns on his back while he thinks. “I read somewhere that when you free a caged bird, it’ll grow stronger, but if you catch a wild bird and cage it, it’ll die of misery. Everyone feels better when they are free, animals included.”

“Never gonna go to a zoo with you,” Louis smiles, “you have such a big heart, H.”

Harry kisses his forehead, his lips linger there and the ghost of the touch stays, even when Harry’s eyes drop closed and his breath evens out to little huffs of air. The words Harry told Louis stick with him. He hears them in his head, over and over again. The room is too silent, and his thoughts are too loud.

Harry is more exhausted than usual these days and Louis knows it’s because of the situation they are in. Harry has to think for so many people: his mum, the drug dealer in him, the real Harry, keeping Louis safe and unharmed, Gemma, and probably Zayn, too. It hurts Louis' heart every time he thinks about it. There is so much going on in Harry’s life…and although he opened up about his past and Louis had the pleasure to meet Anne, there are still things Harry refuses to talk about.

They never talk about the future.

They never talk about the gang Harry is a member of.

They never talk about Harry’s boss. Louis knows it’s some doctor that has…a lot of power over the situation with Anne, but Louis doesn’t know any more than that.

Sometimes Louis doesn’t even want to know, is scared of all the answers - the truth. He is afraid they won’t have a future together, so he doesn’t press the topic. Also he has no idea what to do with his own future, where he is going with it. Is he going back to London? He doesn’t want to see his parents and he feels bad of not thinking about Lottie when he’s with Harry.

Eventually they will have to talk about it. Louis can’t stay at the house when Anne comes back and he wouldn’t want to disrupt their family time. And Lord knows they deserve the loveliest of family dinners, board game nights, and slow mornings spent together. Under the same roof.

Which only leads to Louis leaving Harry's home, going back to his own family. And then, when Lottie is fed up with his shit - which  _ will _ happen in the long run - there won't be a choice other than returning to his former kingdom...

Since the incident in the bathroom, their first date…they haven’t touched the topic about Louis’ habit of taking painkillers and drugs; the painkillers from Lottie are empty and he can feel the difference. He doesn’t like it. There is also a rock of guilt sitting the pit of his stomach, that makes itself noticeable with each inhale, exhale, and when he holds his breath in an attempt to choke on it, the heaviness of his action letting his mind fill with unbearable thoughts that run wild in his mind: He can't believe he sunk far enough to take Harry's drugs without permission. Louis broke down and gave in, at the first possible opportunity he's had. 

In conclusion, Harry can't ever find out. Louis will make sure of that. Harry already puts up with so much, this can't become another thing on the list.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Harry mutters into his hair, pulling Louis even closer into his warm body, “Sleep. S’late.”

“Shh,” Louis kisses Harry’s chin, “don’t worry.”

“Hmmpf.” With that, Harry buries his face deeper into the pillow, arms caging Louis in, but instead of feeling miserable like a bird, he feels free. He closes his eyes, though he’s still wide awake.

“D’you want me to make some milk and honey?” Harry mumbles just when Louis had thought Harry was out again.

“Milk and honey?” Louis whispers right back.

“S’what my mum always made, when I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“No, you’re tired.” Louis frowns. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry scoffs. “Yeah, as if that will ever happen.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, just stating a fact. Louis blinks as Harry draws his arms back and rolls out of bed. Instantly Louis is cold.

“C’mon.” Harry urges gently, peeking over his shoulder, sending Louis a small, sleepy smile when he sees Louis still hasn’t moved an inch.

Louis sighs like it’s a lot of trouble for him to get out of bed, “If you insist.”

They walk down the stairs, clothed in just their boxers. Bare feet slap against the floor on their way to the kitchen. Harry turns the light on and Louis blinks against the sudden brightness. Hopping onto the counter, he watches Harry work for a bit until he can’t stand the silence anymore and starts humming a random song that crosses his mind.

Harry throws him an amused, sleepy smile over his shoulder, then he frowns.

“Did you clean the kitchen?” Harry asks, eyeing the empty sink and the clean floor and counters.

Louis forgot all about that, damn. “I…” He starts, biting the inside of his cheek before shrugging. “Yeah, yeah, I did.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Don’t look so surprised, I can clean up after myself, thanks.” There is a moment of quiet, in which Louis' heart starts to pick up speed, the lingering truth why he cleaned the kitchen in the first place in front of his inner eye. He clears his throat. “Why don’t you have a name?” Louis asks, changing the topic and bringing the attention away from himself, he plays worriedly with his bottom lip, hoping Harry will drop it. The one question mark is exchanged with another one.

Harry blinks, a confused smile is send Louis way. “My name is…Harry?” 

“No,” Louis chuckles, relieved, rubbing beneath his itching nose. “I mean…your Dealer name. Like Hawk, don’t think his parents chose that name for the poor little lad.” 

Harry snorts. “Don’t let Hawk hear you called him little.”

“Bet he has a little dick though.” Louis grins.

Shaking his head, Harry gets the milk out of the fridge. “Matches his brain, then.” He agrees seriously.

Louis giggles against his wrist. “So, what about you? They call you  _ big cock _ or what?”

“You think I’d earn any respect on the streets if people called me that?” Harry wrinkles his nose. “I’m no sex worker.”

“Big Cock on stage for you tonight.” Louis announces, his voice levels deeper.

Harry giggles. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“I bet you would rock that stage.” Louis carries on. “Get all the guys hot.”

“I’m not interested in any other guys, but if you want a show, just say so.” Harry smirks over his shoulder, winking.

Louis grins, “I’d like a show.”

Harry rolls his eyes, wiggling with his bum making Louis laugh.

“Maybe later.”  

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Snorting, Harry adds honey to two mugs.

“So you don’t have a street name?” Louis boomerangs quickly to the original topic before his brain gets all caught up in the thought of Harry stripping for him.

“Uh, no — not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because, Louis,” Harry laughs bitterly. “Almost everybody knows me. I had one at the beginning, didn’t stick for more than two month.”

“Fair enough,” Louis muses, “what was it then?  _ Bambi _ ?”

“You come up with the worst names.” Harry grins down at the pot.

“But it fits just as well as  _ Big Cock. _ ”

There is a blush now on Harry’s cheeks and Louis’ stomach heats because after all the time they have spent together, he still gets Harry all flushed in a pretty light red.

“It used to be  _ Mr. Brightside _ .” Harry confesses quietly.

Louis frowns. “Uh, like the song by  _ The Killers _ ?”

Harry shakes his head. “Has nothing to do with that but every time they announced the song on the radio I got a heart attack.” He pours the milk in the two mugs, turning around to hand one over to Louis.

Louis accepts the milk with a smile and a quiet ‘ _ thanks _ ’.

Harry leans against the sink, blowing over his milk and crossing his ankles.

“So…why  _ Mr. Brightside? _ ”

“They said I smiled too much, I’m too much of a bright personality. I bring some light to the dark side or whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Dunno about that, I just like people being happy.”

“Who came up with the name?” It’s oddly fitting, Louis thinks.

“James,” Harry clears his throat, “he walked up to me, two days after I joined and said he has the perfect name — he was drunk at the time, mind you.” He rolls his eyes. “And — well, Zayn laughed and used it as an excuse to mock the shit outta me, at first, but then he told buyers that’s my name, just to tease me whatever but then everyone called me that until the joke wore off and they just called me Harry again.”

“I can see Zayn doing that.” Louis grins.

Harry grins over the rim, “Yeah, he loved it. Sometimes sang the song, too.”

“What’s Zayn’s name? I met him and he…just said,  _ hey my name is Zayn _ .” Louis chuckles as he recalls the first time he ran into the zen guy, all unimpressed expression and sharp tongue, never backing down but never the first one to push either.

“Uh, Zayn doesn’t have any other name.” Harry says, thoughtfully. “He doesn’t have a family, so it’s not like it’ll get out or whatever.”

“What about the police?”

Harry shrugs casually. “What about them? We still carry our IDs, if they catch us we’re fucked either way.”

“Don’t you have fake ones?”

“Uh,  _ yeah _ some of us, but they are expensive.”

“Fair enough,” Louis muses, taking a sip of his warm milk. It’s sweet and the dairy is sticking to the walls of his throat as he swallows. It’s good though, making him warm from the inside out. He takes a larger sip, humming pleased.

“You like it?” Harry asks with a smile.

“What, your name?” Louis asks, licking milk off his upper lip. “Yeah, kinda fits.”

Harry laughs quietly. “Actually, I meant the milk.”

“Oh,” Louis blinks, “it’s really good.” He returns the smile. “Now you gotta make it every night.”

“That’s no trouble,” Harry easily agrees. “I’d love to.”

“Ah, such husband material, you are.” Louis jokes, but the moment it leaves his mouth, he wants to get the words back in to wherever they came from.

Harry’s eyes lit up brighter than the kitchen lights, and Louis just…well, he takes it back, he enjoys the face Harry makes at him. All big sparkling eyes and dimpled smiles.

They finish their milk and put the mugs into the sink, not bothering to wash them when they have to do the dishes after brekkie anyway.

“You think you can sleep now?” Harry asks, crawling onto the bed, throwing the covers open so Louis can scoot beneath them.

Louis hums, yawning, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Harry kisses his lips, “you taste like honey.”

“You do, too.” Louis whispers, cupping Harry’s cheek as the other boy wants to lean back again.

“Sleep,” Harry orders between kisses, “now.” He doesn’t pull away, though.

“Hm, it’s my thanks.” Louis says, pecking Harry’s lips one final time.

“Don’t have to thank me.” Harry says pulling Louis onto his chest.

“Hm,” Louis is unable to form any words, sleep now making his body heavy. His eyelids drop as Harry starts to rub his spine.

“G’night, Lou.” Harry murmurs.

Louis hums deeply in reply, snuggling closer and then he falls fast asleep, in the only cage that makes him feel free like a wild bird.

 

*    *    * 

 

Louis pads into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing at the corners of his eyes as he finds it empty. He frowns, putting the kettle on anyhow and getting a cup out of the cabinet. The sound of the radio led him here. It’s barely audible over the rush of the boiling water. 

He peeks out of the window. Harry’s bread van still is in the driveway, which means he’s either a) out with Travis or b) he’s legged it. 

Both are unappealing. Louis doesn’t want to be alone again - he’s needy and he knows it. It’s pathetic but he’s too tired to give a fuck. He spills water when he pours it into the cup, and wipes it off the counter half-heartedly. 

They are out of Yorkshire tea, so he puts in a lavender tea bag, which isn’t helping him to wake him up. Lavender is a tea that makes you tired. Louis knows this because his mum always drank one before bed. The smell is pleasant though, so he doesn’t complain. He’ll probably squeeze in a nap before Harry returns from wherever he’s off to.

“I can’t live like this.” Louis mutters into his cup. He’s never been so alone, he feels lonely in a house that is more of a home than his own that he's left behind. But he is a people-person through and through and he misses company. The freedom of walking down a street or getting lost, even that is better than sitting behind these walls. He’d rather be lost outside than safe inside. 

Louis won’t say that to Harry, knowing how bad Harry feels about the situation himself. It’s Louis’ fault, but Harry doesn’t see it that way because he pushed Louis into it at the beginning.

The plan is to hideout like Zayn’s done. 

The plan is utter bullshit. 

He’s already grumpy from waking up alone, so it’s no surprise that he’s feeling somber. Musing about nothing and everything, he takes his tea outside for his ‘Good Morning, I’m already ready for bed Cigarette’. When he can’t get a good morning kiss, that has to make up for it. The moment the first beams of sun warm his face, he stops in his tracks, seeing Harry on the terrace.

Harry doesn’t notice him, all of his attention fixed on a white canvas in front of him, brushes adding more colour with every stroke. Louis blinks, rubbing his eyes again because this has to be a dream. It’s not, it turns out, because Harry is still painting when Louis’ eyes start to hurt under the pressure he puts on them with his fingers. 

He stops rubbing.

“Uh, good morning?” Louis rasps, clearing his throat and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

Harry stops — freezes more like, before he peeks over his shoulder, eyes looking so much like he’s been caught doing something naughty that Louis chuckles. 

“I quite enjoy the view today.” Louis says, and a hand strokes his heart, painting it in all the colours he’s never heard of before. Because this is huge, everything that Harry does has a big meaning behind it. But this… is… the biggest of them all.

Harry smiles bashfully, rubbing his reddened neck. “Morning,” he mumbles, glancing between the painting and Louis. “I…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Louis chimes in quickly. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

“That's pretty hard,” Harry says, “you’re  _ very _ distracting.”

Louis smirks smugly, “I’ve heard that one before.” He replies. Louis wants to ask what Harry is painting because he can’t see anything but some weird mix of colours from where he’s standing, but he wants to give Harry some peace. He wouldn't want Harry to stop either so he waves a hand at him. “Continue, please.” He urges. “I’m just out here smoking and then I’ll watch some mindless telly.”

Harry bites his lip.

“And you won’t be joining me.” Louis adds, sensing where Harry's thoughts wander.

Harry huffs, brushing hair out of his eyes. “‘Kay.” He turns to his painting. “Alright, whatever. You’re not here.”

“Exactly,” Louis says nodding. “I’m invisible — a  _ ghost _ .” He lights his cigarette and leaves it at that.

Louis keeps his promise, the moment he finishes his cig and tea, he pecks Harry’s temple before slipping into the living room, closing the door behind him. Louis thinks this is the warmest of moments he has ever had in his life. His heart swells with the love he’s feeling for the boy outside. Louis is unbelievably proud of Harry.

He gets through two movies before Harry joins him inside. Paint smashed on his cheeks and hair a mess, like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

Harry looks like a proper artist and Louis adores it.

“Done?” He asks casually, trying not to push too hard, rolling his head back onto the sofa so he can look at Harry upside down.

“Taking a break.” Harry replies, climbing over the sofa to sit on the cushions.

“What made you draw again?” Louis asks (and there goes his promise not to push but he’s nosy and…well), at least he keeps his eyes on the screen, trying more for causal than needy for answers.

“Uh, I wanted to put back the football in the garage and then I saw all my stuff, so.” He shrugs, also keeping his eyes on the movie playing. “Kinda felt like it.”

A smile tugs on the corner on Louis' lips. “I’m happy you’re back at it.” Louis says fondly.

Harry looks at him in surprise. “It’s nothing, just…you were sleeping and I got bored.” He smiles, “It’s not like…a big thing.”

It is, they both know.

“Well, I won’t throw you a celebration party, if you don’t want one.” Louis grins, Harry laughs.

“Hm, now that you’ve said it, I really want one.”

“S’gonna be a surprise party then.” Louis scoots closer to Harry. “With a loads of booze and confetti.”

“And pink drinks?” Harry asks, a boyish hopeful look colouring his features.

Louis nods seriously. “Anything you want. We can decorate the drinks with little umbrellas, too.”

Harry makes a happy sound at that and opens his arms for Louis to climb into his lap. Harry bites his neck as he slings his arms around Louis' waist. The huff of air tickles Louis and he squirms, wiggling his bum.  

Startled giggles leave his mouth as Harry bites the spot again. “I’m ticklish.” Louis exclaims breathlessly. “Stop it.”

“Since when?” Harry mutters against him, not letting up from his skin.

“Since you’re behind me and I’ve no idea what you’re going to do.” Louis says matter-of-factly.

Harry doesn’t say anything but Louis can feel his slow smirk on his skin.

“You like that?”

“I’m startled easily.” Louis says, gulping. “Usually I’m the one in charge.”

“I like you like this.” Harry mumbles, “Hmm.”

“You…” Louis swallows, hot all over. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Harry tenses. “Would you like that?”

Louis can’t suppress the shiver rolling down his spine only at the thought of it, “Yes.”

“Up you go then.” Harry says with a low but firm voice, patting Louis’ flanks. “I didn’t think you’d want to, so I never dared to ask.”

“I used to top all the time.” Louis says, getting to his feet, swaying in place to gain balance. Turning, he directs his gaze to Harry’s chest. “I never…” He trails off, waving a hand and bringing himself to make eye contact with Harry.

There is a frown on Harry’s face but it’s more thoughtful than anything else, so…that’s good, right?

“You never trusted anyone enough to take care of you?” Harry asks, pursing his pink lips. Louis shakes his head, blushing from Harry’s intense stare. “You’d let me take care of you?”  

Louis nods his confirmation. There is an odd knot in his throat leaves him speechless and it’s a tad hard to breathe. Yes, he trusts Harry with his body, mind, and soul, and that it’s just a little teeny bit overwhelming. His heart beats loudly against his ribs. The pounding is calming somehow.

Harry pulls him into an embrace. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums into Harry’s neck, going lax in Harry’s arms. “Please.”

He hasn’t had anything up his arse in such a long time, only bottomed twice in his life, right at the beginning of his Gay Breakthrough. He didn’t like it, but he thinks…no, he  _ knows _ , he’ll enjoy it when it’s Harry. 

Louis trusts Harry with more than his body, he trusts him with his whole being.

Everything about them scares Louis in a way. How easily they’ve gotten along since they stopped mocking each other out of spite, how their hands fit like two puzzle pieces (like right now, when they walk up the stairs) and Louis is afraid of the feeling in his stomach that he gets every time Harry looks at him, touches him, kisses him. 

Everything is scary but exciting and calming all at once, because Louis isn’t alone in this. Harry is right here, next to him, looking at him like he’s hung the moon and Louis recalls their talk about the stars and it couldn’t be more true. Louis could look at Harry all night and all day long.

He doesn’t think when Harry lays him down on the mattress, he just feels. He lets his eyes close, allowing Harry to undress him and plant kisses on every part of his body. He sinks into the sheets with a moan when Harry nudges the lubed up tip of his finger against his hole and he whimpers pathetically when he’s knuckle deep into him.

“Shh,” Harry soothes, kissing Louis' parted lips. “I’ve got you.”

“This feels odd.” Louis voices, frowning as he wiggles his hips a bit to get more comfortable.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Nuh- _hu_ , never,” Louis groans, toes curling. “Just not used to it.”

Harry sucks on his neck, crooking his finger until he finds Louis’ prostate, Louis whimpers and moans when he finds it, his finger nudging and scratching against it until Louis is a mess, begging for more than just one simple finger. Harry slicks up two more, sliding his second finger along the first, rubbing the spot inside of Louis and…it feels so good, it coaxes sweat out of his pores, makes his skin flush pink and his breath shudder with every poke.

His hips buck up when Harry takes him into his wet mouth. Waves of unashamed pleasure crash over him as he tries to hold still, Harry’s tongue working around him while his fingers match the bobbing of his head. Louis feels like he’s underwater, the noises he must be making not quite reaching his ears while every touch of Harry’s fingers and lips are burning, leaving a tingling behind.

Louis risks a look down and regrets it a second after. He holds his load back, biting his lips as he makes eye contact with Harry, pink lips stretched around his cock and it’s such a sinful sight that Louis is already halfway over the edge. He squirms, needing more, more, more. “ _ Harry _ .” He breathes, tears stinging in his eyes, he swallows around nothing, tongue fuzzy and heavy in his mouth. “Please, please, I’m ready, I’m fucking- Ah!  _ Ready.” _

Harry lets up from him and Louis exhales a long suffering breath. “Are you sure?” He asks.

Louis does nothing but glare at him, Harry chuckles. “Alright,” He wipes spit from his lips, “yeah, okay.”

He places a pillow beneath Louis' bum, spreading his legs a bit more and kneeling between them. He tears the condom open with his teeth and that alone makes Louis feel like he’s about two seconds away from coming on the spot — again. If Harry keeps doing these things, Louis won’t make it. He closes his eyes, tries to relax back at the mattress, concentrating on holding back.

“Hurry,” he whines with a high-pitched voice that cannot be his own. He sounds so  _ desperate _ and  _ needy _ .

Harry chuckles, and when Louis' eyelashes flutter open, he looks into the all too smug looking face. “Shut up.” Louis laughs breathlessly, thankful for the distraction of his train of thoughts. He breathes a bit easier.

“Enjoying yourself, huh?” Harry smirks lopsidedly, dimple deepening.

“Hm, if you don’t get this show on the road I’ll have to help myself.” Louis says, hand wandering down on his own stomach, fingers teasing his leaking cock, sliding along his balls until he reaches his rim. He runs the tip of his finger over his clenching, already wet with lube, hole. Harry bats his hand away, growling like some starved dog. He leans forward, catching Louis' lips in an open mouthed and sloppy kiss.

“Don’t.” He warns, adjusting himself so his cock is lining up with Louis' hole. “Don’t touch yourself.” His voice is firm and Louis loses it.

He moans when Harry bites his bottom lip, sure he can taste blood. “ _ Jesus _ .” he breathes, eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

Harry kisses his jaw as he enters him and Louis can’t even think of anything but the pleasure and how huge Harry feels inside of him. His hole stretches, clenches around it and it almost hurts. Harry seems to notice because he stops halfway, breathing into Louis' neck, kissing his pulse point and whispering a quiet, “Okay?”

Louis can’t do anything but nod, shutting his eyes tight.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much?”

“N-no, it’s…” Louis inhales, wiggling his bum slightly to gain a better angle. “S’fine. Go on.”

Then, Harry is filling him completely and they both stop moving. Harry groans, cupping Louis' cheek. “You feel so damn good.” He says, kissing him.

“Harry, c’mon.” Louis begs, thighs wrapping around Harry’s hips. His fingers run through Harry’s hair, tugging at it, and Harry moans angelically. Then he starts rolling his hips, thrusting into Louis and his pace quickens when he hears Louis’ whimpers and moans.

“Just like that.” Louis breathes, “C’mon.”

Harry draws almost all out again, before he jerks his hips forward, hitting the spot right on. Louis sees stars behind his closed eyes and he cries out.

“Touch me,” Louis says, hands resting on Harry’s tense butt.

“Bossy,” Harry hums, kissing Louis' collarbone while his hips work, “hmm, you want me to touch you here?” He asks, hand sliding over Louis' chest, fingers rolling his nipple. Louis shudders.

“No,” He whimpers.

“Where then?” Harry asks, innocent but breathless, “Tell me.”

“Touch my  _ cock _ , Harry.” Louis even manages to roll his eyes at Harry’s smirking face. Bastard. “Or should I spell it out for you?” He giggles, but losing his humour the second Harry’s thumb slides over the slit.

“I’m close.” He announces.

“Then come for me, baby.” Harry pants, kissing his cheek, his chin, along his jawline. He nips at his earlobe, hot breath tickling his skin and Louis' eyelashes flutter. His stomach tightens as pressure builds up on his spine and he meets Harry’s thrusts, moving his hips in circles. Then Louis makes the mistake of looking into Harry’s green jade eyes, and he shoots his load up to his chin right there and then, still feels like coming when Harry fills him up and still sees nothing but black and white dots behind his pressed shut lids when Harry collapse on top of him.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis exhales, chuckling afterwards. Panting, he stares at the ceiling.

Harry joins in. “I’m dead.” He groans, “Fuck.” He rolls off Louis with an, ‘ _ oghh _ ’  

“You need to top more often, love.” Louis says, as Harry reaches out to wipe some cum away from Louis' chin.

“Yeah?” Harry wiggles his brows, smirking.

“Yeah,” Louis grins right back, “ _ duh _ .”

They laugh, both equally loose and flushed.

“Hm,” Harry hums, kissing Louis' temple. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thanks, love.”

Harry winks, then he’s off the bed, padding into the bathroom, soft cock slapping against his inner thighs. Louis rolls on his side, head held up by his palm. He watches Harry soak the towel. Brushing his sweaty fringe out of his eyes, he laughs softly.

“What?” Harry asks, glancing at him smiling and then turning off the water, “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing,” Louis giggles, “just happy.” 

“Hm, good —  _ Success _ .” Harry is still smiling brightly at him when he walks back to the bed, sitting down on the edge and cleaning Louis from all the leftover cum and lube. Louis hisses when the towel comes in contact with his sensitive cock and hole.

“What’s next?” He asks, when Harry scoots up the bed and rests his back against the headboard.

“Gimme a breather.” Harry chuckles, brushing Louis' hair off his forehead.

“Not what I meant.” Louis says, eyebrows raised, a smile tugging on his lips.

“We can order in.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “Or I could run to the shop?”

Louis frowns. “I could do it,” He offers, well knowing Harry will say no. Sure enough the brushing stutters, and the soft look on Harry’s face falters. He schools his expression quickly, so if Louis would’ve glanced away for just a second, he’d have missed it. He didn’t, and the warm feeling in his stomach cools down a tad.

“You know, you can’t, Lou” He whispers, swallowing, “I’m sorry it’s—”

“Just not safe,” Louis finishes for him, rolling his eyes. “I get it.” He sits upright, and feeling too exposed with his dick still out, he covers himself with the sheets. It’s not helping. “When can I leave the house again?” He asks, throat closing up.

Harry avoids his searching eyes.

“Harry.” Louis coaxes, licking the backside of his teeth.

“We’ll just order in.” Harry says, closing his eyes. “But first, let’s take a nap okay?”

Louis sets his jaw, but shakes the stiffness that settles over his shoulders away a moment later. Louis doesn’t want to fight right now, he wants to bottle up the light mood they were in just seconds ago, he wants that back. So, if he’s got the chance not to fight with the boy that was the first boy who took care of him properly, he chooses to ignore the feeling in his throat, stomach, and toes in favour of ignoring the problem a tad longer, he won’t fight with Harry. _He_ _won’t_.

“Okay,” He gives in, shoulders hunching and his jaw relaxing. He rolls into Harry’s body and kissing his ribs.

“Good.” Harry mutters sleepy.

“This isn’t over.” Louis says with another kiss so Harry knows he’s not mad, at least not at him.

“Don’t I know it…” Harry sighs, pecking Louis' lips before they both sink into sleep.

 

*    *    * 

 

When Harry is away, Louis gets high. When Harry is home, Louis gets high on the taste of Harry. 

The situation he’s in doesn’t work for him, but he calms his irritated emotions with drugs, which makes it okay, right? Probably not. 

Waking up to an empty bed isn’t his favourite thing, but sniffing coke for breakfast is. 

Showering alone isn’t fun, but while high, it doesn’t matter. 

He only eats when he’s with Harry, so he has dropped some weight in the weeks he has spent at Harry’s house. Harry doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t say anything. 

It works until it doesn’t anymore. 

Good things aren’t meant to last forever and Louis should have seen it coming. If one person knows Louis best, it’s Louis himself. He knew he would fuck up eventually (more than he already has). 

It’s Tuesday, two weeks after Harry topped the first time since they’ve been together. 

Harry is away in Manchester, told Louis he has to stay the night. Louis is sick of being alone and being high doesn’t help as much when there are no people around to entertain him. 

The telly plays shit movies and worse shows and there is no footie match on that he’s interested in. 

The clock tells him it’s time to get out of this bloody house. 

Harry will have his head, but Harry isn’t home and he won’t be for the night, which means, he won’t ever find out.

Louis showers, puts on some random clothes and leaves the house, key in his pocket and a jacket thrown over his shoulder. 

He avoids walking past the Diner, knowing Niall has a shift. He does not want to get caught. Ambling through an alley he’s never been down before doesn’t feel as frightening any more than it did at the beginning, because he’ll eventually find his way back to wherever he’s going.

A dog barks as he walks past a couple of houses. He makes a random left turn and finds himself on the main road. 

See, easy. 

There aren’t a lot of people out, but those who are, are loud and already at a level of being pissed out of their minds. A bunch of drunk guys pass him, laughing and shooting some slurs at each other. 

Louis makes the decision to follow them in about three-seconds, turning on his heels he ducks his head, burying his hands into his pockets and praying they are walking towards a pub not home or the Diner or some crap. 

Turns out, he followed the right people because the next time he looks up, they open the door to probably the only pub in town. Louis ignores the memory that nudges his mind. Absently, Louis pokes his throat, where the blade of the flick-knife dug in and then shakes himself out of it. There is no time to have second thoughts about whether going in there is the right choice, when laughter and music float outside, pulling Louis closer. The last guy from the group holds the door open for him and Louis is quick to jog up.

“Thanks mate.” He smiles, slipping inside, the bloke is close behind.

“You’re welcome. I haven’t seen you around before, you new?” He asks, friendly eyes flickering over Louis' face. 

“Oh, uh,” Louis pulls on the collar of his jacket, “No,” He chuckles, “didn’t even know the town had a pub.” He lies. 

The bloke grins, “Well, now you’ve found it, let me buy you a drink, eh?” 

Louis blinks, searching in the blue eyes if there is a hint that this is more than just a friendly laddy-lad offer. He can’t find anything suspicious. Louis shrugs, smiling. “Alright, why not?” 

“Great.” The man claps him on the shoulder before they join his friends. Leaning against the bar surface, he turns his head to Louis once more, still smiling. “What is your order, mate?” 

“Guinness is fine.” 

When their orders are placed in front of them, Louis glances around. There aren’t a lot of people, which is to be expected on a Thursday night, some older men playing cards at the far back of the pub, laughing loudly as one of them loses and shakes his head in defeat, whilst one of the others claps him on the back sympathetically. Louis smiles, taking a sip of his beer and looking up to the telly that’s hung up above the bar. It plays the news, nothing special. There is an interview going on, yada yada. 

The bloke who bought him the beer is in a conversation with one of his friends, gesturing wildly with his hands, trying to make a point in the argument they seem to be holding. It’s friendly, however, and his friend laughs, shoving at the bloke’s chest. 

Louis gulps some more beer. Though he’s out of the house, he feels as lonely as he’d felt before. Probably because he’s in the wrong company. He misses Harry. God.

He is pathetic, seriously. Since when did he become so bloody codependent? 

His finger tap on the bar surface in a nervous rhythm, wondering if maybe he should go home again. This isn’t as much fun like he’d thought it’d be; Harry is missing and that’s enough to put a damper to Louis' mood. 

“Y’alright mate?” The bloke asks, nudging Louis with his elbow. 

“I still don’t know your name.” Louis says, blinking. “You bought me a drink and I don’t know your name.” 

“Seth, nice to meet you…” 

“Louis.” He finishes for Seth, shaking his hand. 

“Nice to meet you Louis.” 

“Thanks for the drink.” 

“No worries.” Seth shrugs a casual shoulder, “What’s on your mind then?” 

“Nothing.” Louis frowns, when Seth raises an eyebrow, Louis sighs, rolling his eyes. “Actually, I shouldn’t be out.” He confesses. He shouldn’t do a lot of things, like getting coked-up for example. It’s all wrong, he knows and he wishes he could just stop being such a fuck-up and become the person Harry needs him to be. A better person with better morals, nicer thoughts, and a more promising future. 

Seth laughs like it’s a joke and Louis smiles mildly. “Why is that? Your girlfriend mad you out?”  

Louis shakes his head, smile faltering. “No girlfriend.” 

Seth snips his fingers to get the bartender's attention, ordering two fresh beers though Louis’ glass is only half-empty. Not that he minds. 

“My girl is on a month-long vacation,” Seth continues, turning back to Louis with a sad tilt to his mouth, “These guys had to drag me outta the house.” He thumbs over his shoulder. 

Louis’ lips twitch, “I could use a month-long vacation.” He muses, picturing Harry and him sunbathing under the Italian sun or strolling the streets of a city neither of them had been to before. 

Seth chuckles, “I know right. She’s lucky; I should be happy for her.” 

“Why aren’t you with her then?” 

“Girls’ vacation. They planned this the past year. One of her friends is getting married soon, so it’s whatever.” 

“Damn.” Louis breathes, “Married, huh?” 

They share a smile, both taking sips of beer after. 

There is a hole in the conversation, but Louis feels better than before, Seth seems to be a nice lad, at least he bought Louis a drink without thinking he’ll get his dick sucked in the bathroom later, or whatever. It’s a relief, since guilt is still a permanent weight in his guts, it’d make it worse if Seth actually had intentions to pull. 

Since this isn’t the case, Louis relaxes more against the bar, wrist wiggling to the beat of the music. 

See, nothing happened, he is out and still alive and well. There is no need for Harry to worry Louis will get ambushed the moment he steps over the doormat. Also, there is no sight of this kid who caused trouble — Luke, right. It’s ironic - he thinks he’s old enough to get high, but can’t even go in a pub because he’s underage. 

His new friend gets pulled into another conversation with one of the blokes and Louis sighs. He should head home, it’s getting late and since it’s Louis, with his luck Harry is probably already on his way back. Just when he turns to tell Seth, the door opens and Louis frowns. 

Two girls enter, one girl all too familiar. The sight of her sets fear loose in Louis' gut and then irritation, because the girl that holds Lara’s hand doesn’t have blue hair. 

Well, well. Fuck.

Lara sees him straight away, obviously, since he’s standing right at the bar, and they stare at each other with big, stunned eyes. 

“Louis.” Lara’s brows pull together in confusion, “Hi.” Apparently, that’s also the moment she remembers who’s she’s with and who she’s without and she lets go of the mysterious girl's hand like it burned her. 

“Hello little one.” Louis goes for a light tone, covering the anxiety that creeps its way up his throat, closing it and making it hard to breathe or swallow. He buries his hands in his green jacket. 

“I’m surprised to see you out.” 

Louis' eyes narrow, “Who’s your friend?” 

“Uh, oh.” Lara’s lashes flutter, she makes a small noise in the back of her throat before fuming with her hair. “This is Shane. Shane, this midget is Louis.” 

“Midget.” Louis mutters, forcing a smile on his lips and stepping towards the girls to shake Shane’s hand. 

Shane has beautiful dark hair that’s tied in a high ponytail on top of her head. Her grey eyes blink at him in an unimpressed manner, not friendly, not rude either, just oddly unimpressed, like a panther just watching its victim from afar before attacking, well knowing it’s in the upper hand.

He sure hopes he won’t be attacked by a girl that’s the same height he is tonight, including Lara, who still eyes him in a way that tells him she’s going to call him out, drag him home, and tie him to a chair until Harry gets home. 

He sends her a glare. She isn’t the one to talk, since she’s out with someone that is definitely not Ivana. Louis wonders why they’re still in a relationship when they go behind each other's back like this. He should talk to her, he should tell her what he saw at the party at the beginning of his stay in Macclesfield. However, he can’t tell Harry about Lara, since he’s supposed to stay in the house. 

“Who’re you with?” Lara asks, glancing over his shoulder. He totally forgot he isn’t actually alone this time around, he meets Seth’s curious gaze and brings attention back to Lara quickly. It’s not like he’s out here to hook up with the lad, he has a girlfriend after all and Louis could never ever do that to Harry, the thought alone makes him feel sick. 

“That’s Seth,” Louis says with a shrug, “and his friends.” 

She cocks an eyebrow, he knows what she’s thinking and it’s bullshit. 

“His girlfriend is on vacation.” He declares. 

Lara nods slowly, then she sighs, “you wanna sit with us?” 

Shane stiffens. 

“I actually wanted to go home.” 

Shane relaxes, and Louis holds back a roll of his eyes. 

So, this isn’t just a friend, then.

“Well, you’re out already, innit? Wouldn’t hurt to stay a tad longer, eh?” 

He shifts his weight, feeling uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to witness this, but looking into the brown of Lara’s eyes, seeing the pleading behind the gaze that’s fixed on him, he gulps down the uneasiness and shrugs, “Alright, alright. I’ll stay.” 

Shane turns her head, but he doesn’t miss the annoyed huff. He tries not to smile. He fails. 

“Okay, let’s do a round.” Lara says, delighted now that Louis won’t leave her arse. 

“I’m on it, get a booth, babe.” Shane chimes in, actually kissing Lara’s temple and passing Louis with a closed-lipped smile. 

When they are alone, Louis raises his eyebrows, folding his arms and levelling her with a stare. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“She’s just a friend.” Lara muses, pulling her lip between her teeth and chewing. The colour of shame ruins the act and Louis sighs.

“Lara, passive-aggressive behaviour towards Ivana won’t get you anywhere. You guys really need to talk.” 

She picks at her nail, bottom lip wobbling. “I just miss her a lot. I don’t know.” 

“I miss Harry too,” Louis says, “and I’m not going behind his back hooking up with so called friends.” 

Lara snorts, “Alright, Lou, alright. Don’t play the innocent one, now. You’re out whilst you should be at home.” 

“This is not the same thing.” Louis grits through his teeth, stepping closer to her. “I couldn’t stand it anymore okay? I had to get out, it’s been a bloody week.” 

“How many times did you sneak out?” Lara asks unimpressed. “Every night? C’mon. It’s not the first time you’re here, is it?” 

“Actually it is. I just told you—”

“Here are your drinks.” Shane chirps, then she frowns. “Why are you guys still standing around? Get a booth, I can’t hold them any longer.” 

Lara is quick to accept one of the three beers that are awkwardly held in Shane’s hands. Louis takes one too and mutters a thanks under his breath before they find themselves somewhere to sit. Only then Louis remembers how rude he’s being toward Seth. The lad had paid for his drinks and was really nice to begin with, since Louis went to the pub by himself. Before he sits down, he turns, ambling back to the bar. Seth already is looking his way.  

“Sorry.” Louis grins, “I didn’t know my friends would show up actually. Thanks for the drinks, mate.” Louis purses his lips. “If you want, you can sit with us?” 

Seth shrugs. “Nah, I’m good thanks. Probably going home soon anyway, my brother has football training in the morning and I gotta drive him.” He rolls his eyes, emptying his pint. “Nice to meet you, mate.” 

They exchange some more words of goodbye and thanks and a minute later, Louis slides in the booth across Lara and Shane, fingers curling around his sweating pint glass. He takes a sip before wiping his mouth. 

It’s already awkward. Louis wants to go home. 

The three of them sit in silence whilst chatter washes over them. Louis bobs his head to the song that comes on and taps his fingers on the tables surface, leg jiggling. 

“Well,” Shane says slowly, “this isn’t working.” 

Louis snorts in his beer. Lara’s eyes widen. 

“And why not, Shane?” Louis asks, wiping drops off his chin.

“Louis…” Lara warns.

“What?” Louis presses, leaning forward, “Is it too awkward? I feel quite like Niall only that I actually know I’m not welcome on a date.”

Lara rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and mirroring his position. She opens her mouth to shoot back, but Shane is quicker. 

“You know what, you guys sort this shit out, I took a day off because of this. When I’m back from the loos, you’re either gone or you guys get your shit together.” With that, Shane stands up, leaving them gasping after her. 

“Wow, she really is something else, eh?” Louis says bewildered, “Is she always that rude?” 

Lara narrows her eyes at him, “I wouldn’t know, I just met her.” 

“What?” Louis brows twitch together in confusion.

“Tinder.” 

Louis groans, “Lara. Why?” 

“It’s easy and she’s no student so…” 

“So, Ivana wouldn’t find out.” Louis finishes with a wince. “Let’s go home Lara, c’mon. This isn’t doing you any good.” 

Lara’s eyes droop to the table, the fight leaves her body and her shoulders sag. “I know, I just…” 

“Talk to Ivana, go home and talk to your girlfriend.” 

“She’s on vacation, you know that.” 

Louis huffs. “That’s no excuse.” 

“Harry knows you’re out?” 

“You know he doesn’t.” Louis rubs below his nose. “Also, I can go out when I please. He isn’t my fucking dad, alright?” 

Lara’s lips twitch. “Daddy.” She says under her breath.

Louis pokes his tongue in the inside of his cheek to fight the smile off his lips. “Fuck you.” 

“So you’re into that?” 

“Actually I’m not. Besides, have you met Harry? He’s no daddy.” 

A grin splits Lara’s face and Louis rolls his eyes at himself inwardly.

“Does that mean he calls you daddy?” She waggles her eyebrows. “You guys are so kinky.” 

“We’re not and no, fuck, he doesn’t.” 

“Does he call you master?” Lara pushes. “Do you like...have him on a leash crawling on the floor?” 

“Stop talking about your best friend like that, you’re so weird.” 

“Why are you so red, honey? You guys aren’t shy when it comes to sex. C’mon, spill.” 

“We don’t do any of that shit.” Louis says. “I don’t know any BDSM rules, I never even thought about that.” 

“You’re welcome.” Lara winks.

Louis shakes his head, chuckling. “This is getting out of hand, I’m way too sober for that.” 

“You mean when you don’t have Harry as your backup by your side?” 

“That too.” Louis agrees. Harry is the more talkative one of the two when it comes to sharing bedroom secrets with their friends. Louis guesses he only does it to make them uncomfortable, to have a laugh, whatever. Louis doesn’t mind, he’s heard too many stories Niall told the group about all the girls he’s sharing his bed with that Louis doesn’t even bat an eye when the subject comes up. 

They share a smile, the situation momentarily forgotten but it slaps both of them in the face when Shane plops down next to Lara on the red bench. 

“Good?” She asks, raising her brows and glancing between Louis and Lara. 

Louis purses his lips, shrugs and holds up his palms, giving up. Maybe he can persuade her to change her mind if he stays. It’s a solid reason to get more comfortable and empty his pint in one, big gulp. This is going to be an interesting night. 

They order another round of beer and switch to vodka later, doing shots and pulling faces at the taste. The pub is crowded now, and when Louis asks why there are suddenly people everywhere, shouting and laughing and drinking, Lara grins, informing him it’s karaoke night and she’s going to battle him in a sing-off after the first groups of drunks embarrassed themselves up on the little stage. 

“But first,” Lara holds him back, leaning cross the table. “Let’s say hello to snow white.” 

Louis blinks, tipsy and confused as hell. “Is this another midget joke?” He raises his brows, unimpressed. “Trust me, Harry tried already to offend me with this and you’re little, so it’d backfire.” 

Shane snorts, “You really wanna tell me you never took snow white before?” 

It clicks and Louis’ eyes widen when he fully understands what they are on about. He hadn’t thought about doing drugs tonight, but now that the possibility is on the table, he isn’t one to turn the opportunity down. He nods curtly and Shane sends him the first genuine smile since they met. 

Drugs create friendships, Louis should know. Nick, Eleanor, Stan, that’s how they all met, also Zayn, Lara. This isn’t a healthy way, this is the worst way to find people who share the same interest.  He shouldn’t be surprised that Shane is in on the plan to get coked-up, he shouldn’t feel the little needle that pokes his guts, reminding him he’s being dishonest to Harry, he’s making it worse for himself right this second, that he won’t ever get to chance to better, if he’s not even fucking trying. 

It’s been a long week so far and Louis has already fucked up too much. One night can’t hurt any more. Besides he’s out, he’s with Lara, what the hell could go wrong? 

All of them take turns. Lara and Shane go first, and when they get back from the bathroom, their grins are matching and their cheeks are heated up. 

“Go on, after that we’ll sing and drink away the shame when they boo us.” Lara says, hugging Louis. Before he can ask why she’s embracing him randomly, he feels her fingers slip in his pockets, and when she draws back, his own hand curls around the pack he finds in his jacket and he smiles at her, nodding and disappearing in the bathroom. 

The loos are disgusting. There is a heavy smell of vomit and pee in the air and someone is passed out in one of the stalls. It’s a Thursday night and Louis wonders about the people that live in Macclesfield, remembering his thoughts on his way to Lottie’s house, how he assumed they were all priests and never heard of drugs before and all that. Looking at the guy, Louis frown deepens. Shouldn’t he wake him up or check if he’s still alive? He looks pale in the low light of the bathroom. All done with the world around him, curling on the floor next to the toilet. 

Louis steps closer, but then the door flies open and Seth steps inside, perplexed, the man stops, staring at Louis.

“Thought you left.” Is what Louis says.

“Yeah, I’d rather be home anyway but—” He waves a telling hand towards the man on the ground, “He got pissed and, well.” 

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Need some help with him?” 

Seth chuckles. “It’s quite alright, man, but thanks.” 

Louis watches as Seth shakes his friend awake, slapping his cheek and ruffling his hair. “C’mon Thomas, I think it’s bedtime.” 

Thomas grunts, eyelashes fluttering, then he blinks his eyes open. He groans some more in pain. “I’m tired.” 

Louis chuckles, Seth sends him an amused glance. 

“Alright, big guy, let’s get ya arse home then.” Seth helps his friend up, who trips over nothing and falls into the stall wall. “Easy, oh god, don’t break your leg, Tom.” 

Thomas smacks his lips together, giggling suddenly, then he winces. “I miss her.” 

Oh shit, this guy is going to have a mental breakdown. Louis just wanted to do lines, he didn’t sign up for this.

Seth rolls his eyes. “Who you’re missing?”

“My girlfriend.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend, c’mon. Girls in magazines don’t count.”

Louis covers his laugh with an awkward cough.

“S’not in a mag— mag—” Thomas frowns.

“It’s a big word, I know.” Seth chirps, slinging Thomas’ arm around his shoulder, taking a careful step forward.

“She is not—” Thomas tries again just when they reached the door.

“Goodnight Louis.” Seth calls just before the door shuts behind them and Louis is finally, finally alone.

He releases a great sigh, turning towards the mirror and getting the pack and his wallet out. Louis hurries to form two straight lines on the white of the washbasin, hoping no one will come in and he’s not sniffing something that’s not coke up his nose.

He leans forward, heart pounding hard, the tenner in his hand shakes a bit. He presses his index on one side of his nose. There is no reason to be nervous, he muses just before he sniffs the first line.

It shoots up his nostril and he shakes his head wildly as the numbness spreads and the bitter aftertaste drips in his throat. A shiver runs down his spine and he repeats it with the next line, clearing the sink afterwards with trembling fingers.

He rubs his nose, already having a tingling sensation waving from the top of his head down his shoulders and wandering along his legs until his toes curl in his shoes and his head is wiped out, blank, clean from thoughts that make him regret all of his life decisions.

The familiar energy kicks in and he can’t hold back the manic smile. After he had a wee, he leaves the bathroom, packet of dust hidden in his pocket and his wallet safe where it belongs.

It’s too hot in the pub, the music too loud and there is air missing in his lungs as he weaves his way to the booth, only to find it empty. He shrugs, spinning in a circle, checking the bar and the stage for the girls.

Hmm…

_ Aren’t we clever, _ he thinks, walking up to the bar just so he doesn’t have to stand around looking like an idiot.

Perhaps he should be worried about his friend, maybe Shane is a psychopath.

“Hey!” He calls out to the bartender. When he gets the elder man’s attention, he continues, leaning closer to be heard over the singing of the two fools on stage, currently blaring out the wrong lyrics to ABBA, “have you seen two girls? Brunette and black hair?” He asks.

The bartender gives a halfhearted shrug, glancing at a man that wants to buy a drink and then back at Louis, “Sorry son, I can't recall them. It's a full house tonight!”

Louis huffs, standing back and waving a hand at the man before getting his phone out and calling Lara.

He detaches himself from the men that sing along to the song and swinging from side to side.

Paranoia raises goosebumps on his arms though he feels hot. What if Shane actually  _ is _ a psychopath?

Louis is the worst friend in history, he shouldn't have taken the drugs, he should've stayed by her side or convinced her to go home with him, whining about needing company or some shit.

Fuck.

His thoughts spin around pictures of Lara somewhere alone and afraid and tied up and-

The door swings open letting the cold night air into the stuffy pub and with it come high giggles.

Louis' ears perks and his head snaps from his phone up to the door.

He narrows his eyes, shoulders sagging.

The girls giggle carelessly in each other's necks and then plop down in the booth. Louis watches as Lara pockets her cigs and he rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.

Fucking hell.

“Fucking hell.” He spits, sitting down on his old seat and now that Lara is fine, the good mood comes back and he grins, despite his words.

“What?”

“What?” He asks back, chuckling as he sends a glance at Shane before fixing Lara on the spot. “What? Glad you asked, I thought this one,” he points at Shane, “kidnapped you!”

Both of them laugh, Louis pulls a face.

“Look at that.” Shane says, “You trippin’ mate.”

“I'll pass thanks.” He says, scratching his chin. His phone lights and rings,  _ Frog  _ is playing on screen and the edges of his version blur as he stares at it. Heart beating out of rhythm. “Shit.”

“Who's it?” Lara asks, reaching out to take it but before she can even touch it, Louis snatches it close to his chest and actually hisses at her.

“What the fuck.” Shane laughs.

Louis doesn't feel like laughing anymore.

“What do I do?” He asks out loud panicked, phone vibrating in heartbeat rhythms against his chest.

“You answer it? What's wrong with your friend?” Shane glances confused at Lara.

“He's grounded.” Lara says matter-of-factly.

“Shut up.” Louis snaps, standing.

“Oh, oh-ho.” Shane laughs, “How old are you?”

“Grounded by his boyfriend.” Lara corrects, her lips twitch like she's joking and it's not serious and Louis' get irritated by her behaviour.

Turning he inhales, the ringing stops just when he reaches the door.

It swings open before he can get a hold on the handle, and it nearly hits him straight in the damn face and he flinches, stumbling back. A bald man not much older than Louis himself blocks the way out. Louis blinks, taking in the weird tattoos that are inked along the side of his shaved head above the tips of his ears. That must have hurt like a bitch.

The man, taller than Louis, has much more meat on his bones gives him a snarled smile. Maybe because Louis is still staring,  _ huh _ . He shakes himself out of it, glancing down at his phone for a split second, missing the dangerous sparkle in the blue of the man’s narrowed eyes.

Harry hung up on him, the notification of a missed call lightening up the display.

“Sorry mate.” The guy says with a grating voice, bringing Louis’ attention back to him, he's still standing in the way. Sizing Louis up and down, the tan skin beside his eyes in tight wrinkles as his eyes squirm. “It's pretty crowded tonight, eh?”

“You could say that.” Louis replies tremulously. He coughs into his fist, taking his phone with his other hand and brushing off the sweat on his palm on his jeans. “It's karaoke night.” Louis proclaims, his voice normal again.

“Cool. Already leavin’ though?” He lifts one of his bushy pierced eyebrows, the ring gleaming under the lightbulb above. He points over his broad shoulder, letting a gum smack.

“Uh, yeah.” Louis’ eyes dart into the night, then they snap back to the man, brows knitting together slightly. There is a coat of fresh sweat in his neck.

The man nods, flashing him a sharp grin, gum stuck to his front teeth, before his tongue peels it off and his jaw works on it again. He chews with an open mouth, teeth shimmering at Louis. “Get home safe then.”

“Thanks, mate. Cheers.” Louis smiles tightly, confusion dying down however, when he finally passes the rough guy with the odd choice of tattoo placements and steps into the caliginous night air.

Louis exhales shakily when he’s his only company. When the door swings shuts with a bang, he startles, pulling his collar up his neck to shield him from the biting breeze that brushes off his damp hair and licks at his ears. The fuzzy rain hits his face and cools his skin from the time spent in the overheated pub, the alcohol, and the coke. He shakes off the tingling feeling in his neck with a frown, and starts shuffling his shoes over the ground.

He hopes the anxiety that lets the skin around his throat tighten will disappear the more distance he brings between himself and the pub. He can’t hear the music anymore.

Walking down the main road, all the lights of the houses left and right are out, no one is outside but him but he kind of gets the feeling he is not as alone as he seems to be. Paranoia creeps up to him as a guy on a bloody bicycle passes him and he almost jumps out of his skin. He stares after him, just for the guy to check over his shoulder. Quickly he looks back at the ground, Louis is in no mood for trouble. He chuckles to himself nervously and gets out a cigarette.

“Bloody hell.” He mumbles, breathing in the smoke, letting it stay in his lungs for a long moment until his head starts spinning from the nicotine and not from the fear that sits in his bones, letting them vibrate with each step he takes. This is crazy. He doesn’t have to be scared - how many bloody nights did he walk alone through London? Too many, that is. See. He’ll get through a pin-sized town by his own without having a bloody heart attack or, you know, getting his head kicked in. There is no fucking reason to check over his shoulder again.

There is no reason for his stomach to twist like something really is wrong. It’s irrational panic, he knows, _ he knows _ . Goddamnit. Louis still jumps out of his bones when his phone beeps in his pocket and he gulps around nothing, pulling on his collar with shaky fingers.

His heart sits in his throat when his ears pick up another noise, it’s close behind him. He digs his nails into his palms, cutting the skin to ground himself. He won’t check, he won’t turn around. He draws his shoulders up to his ears and ducks his head, biting his tongue and doesn’t let up from it though he can taste blood.

_ Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong. _

Paranoia gets the best out of him and he finally turns his head, to calm his nerve, to laugh it off. Instead, when he glances over his shoulder, there actually is someone walking behind him. His heart pounds and adrenaline shoots through his veins as the stranger with a hoodie over his head, looks up.

Without second thoughts he starts to run, he flies down the pavement, tears prickling in his eyes from the wind and the panic and the urge to go faster, faster, faster. He isn’t fast enough. The heavy steps are too close now.

_ They are after him, he should have listened to Harry. _

He makes a left turn, peeking over his shoulder and finding the street empty, when he looks ahead, he has no time to react.

“ _ Oh shit! _ ” The guy cries out as Louis collapses with him and his bike, sending them all to the ground in a mess of limbs and metal. “ _ Ouch! _ ”

There is pain blooming in his ribs and his nose hurts where it made harsh contact with the handlebars. He clambers to his feet, bending down and holding the man by the collar of his jacket. “Is this planned?” He asks, shaking the man, who's still lying awkwardly on top of the bike. “You're one of them!” He hisses.

“Mate— I—” The man gulps, trying to get Louis off, but Louis holds on tighter. “No idea what you're talking about. Get off! You're hurting me, stop!” He winces when Louis' knee digs into his stomach. Then the blue of the man’s eyes turn a blur, his whole face becomes a blur more like and Louis stumbles back when it's Hawk suddenly he looks at. Grinning up at him with sharp teeth and the mark Louis left on him still burned in his cheek.

Louis rubs his eyes, dark eyes turning back to blue and when Louis looks again, there is Hawk’s ugly face staring at him once more.

What is happening? What the hell is going on?

“Mate…” The man grunts. He has two heads, and Louis eyes flicker between the two, not sure which one is more of a threat. His fingers clench into the fabric, it all hurts, his own head hurts, spins and he feels sick. “Please don’t, I’m Marius, please, please—” The man shoves at Louis’ chest, trying to shield his face and Louis didn’t realises he was holding his fist up. He blinks, confused out of his mind, because he still doesn’t know what is happening and everything feels like it’s far away.

Then, a car passes them and a whimper leaves Louis’ lips, it’s their back-up, he knows, he  _ knows _ . It stops and he wastes no more time, not wanting to find out what's coming next. He is pretty sure he already knows anyway. He stumbles away, trips and catches himself the last second before he falls to the ground a second time. He hears the man calling out to him, a door opening and closing but he's already dashing down the street. He can't make out a lot, hot tears fill his eyes and his breath comes in loud clouded puffs. His ribs aches with each pant and his nose makes it hard to inhale. It might be bleeding.

There are heavy footsteps following him. This cannot be happening, this is surreal. Panicked and with frantic, wide eyes he glances around, so quickly turning his head that his mind spins with it.

He has no time, he has no time. Fuck, fuck, fuck, they're so close and there is no bloody spot to hide, what is he going to do? He can't fight, he's exhausted.

His heart sits in his throat and blood pumps through his ears as a loud ringing sound. He ducks behind a car, cowering at the exhaust, biting his lips and wincing when he curls in on himself and his rib sends a shock of stinging pain through his ribcage.

Louis waits, trying to even out his panting breaths. His stomach twists with sudden sickness and he swallows the bile.

Then, there are footsteps.

They are coming closer and closer and closer and closer.

Louis shuts his eyes, covering his head with his folded arms and hides his face on his upper thighs.

He can't breathe, he can't breathe, Louis can't  _ breathe _ .

This is it.

His end.

The steps are now so close, that he’s certain they are walking right by the car, he's hiding behind, they probably will see him  _ any _ second. The steps don’t falter and then they — they are walking right past Louis’ side, away from him and then he is  _ alone _ .

Blinking his eyes open, he frowns deep in confusion. He was so sure —

What?  _ What? _

He releases a great breathe, chuckling wetly to himself and leaning his back against the backside of the car, his limbs shake with exhaustion and relief. His chuckles turn into high pitched giggles and he clutches his hurting sides, what the fuck? What the fuck? He laughs, he knows he's being hysterical the moment tears make it over the rim of his eyes and he sobs once, twice, laughter turning into whimpers until he inhales deeply, stomach turning into a balloon and then he releases the breath all at once.

“What the fuck?” He whispers tonelessly. His stomach twists violently, cramping together as new bitter and stinging bile crawls up his throat, he leans to the side, getting everything out of his nearly empty stomach that rolls with ripping pain. It splashes on the pavement, hitting his face and he presses his eyes shut, white spot sparkling behind his lids. Dry heaving a few times, each inhale and exhale sends needles to his ribs and his heart flutters widely in its cage. Cold sweat breaks out of his pores and he scrubs a hand across his face, rubs his closed lids and wipes his mouth, his nose is running and he smears the snot on the sleeve of his jacket. It’s ruined anyway.

Louis sags on his side, cheek on the moist street. He clutches his stomach. His chest rises and falls with the pants that leave his lips. The smell of his vomit is itching in his nose, but he has no energy left to do more than shut his eyes and wince as another waves of pain rolls down from the top of his head to his toes. His heart skips a beat.

Perhaps he won’t get killed by another human, but this sure feels like dying right this second.

He grinds his teeth together with a click.

_ You trippin’, You trippin’,  _ Shane's laughing voice echoes in his mind.

Yes, Louis thinks, he's fucking trippin’.

Louis has no idea how long he lays curled up like a foetus on the street, but at some point the rain stops and so does the pain in his muscles. He truly is pathetic, freaking out over nothing, running into a bike-rider and hiding behind cars like some crazy person.

He doesn’t know how he does it, but after three deep breathes, he heaves himself up, stumbling and catching himself on the car. His body is numb with exhaustion and a ball of sadness sits where pain made his guts twist just hours ago, or minutes, seconds? He still has no damn clue. He drags his heavy feet along the pavement, away from his dried vomit and the evidence that he is fucked up and going insane. 

One day, just one day. That’s all he wants, one day without thoughts and fears and desires that fuck up his mind even more. One day living in peace, without guilt, suffering and shame and need and— 

Just one goddamn day — little twenty-and-four hours — is that too much to ask? 

Somehow he makes it home, unlocks the door and then finally lets out a whimper, a sob, when the hallway is empty, and the living room, and the kitchen, the bedroom.

He falls face first into the mattress, not bothering to take of his shoes, too tired from all the emotions, the running, the bloody night out, which he regrets with all of his shitty being. 

Louis hates himself a little bit more. This is his fault. He should have listened to Harry, stayed inside and watched some crap movie whilst waiting for Harry to arrive and make it all better. 

He falls asleep crying in the pillow, folded in on himself and shivering in the cold, empty bed. 

One day without suffering, Louis doesn’t even deserve that.  

 

***    *    ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked it, that'd be super lovely!* - loads of loooove xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday! I hope you all had a really awesome Halloween. - Enjoy reading! :) xx

 

***    *    ***

 

 

“Louis!”

He buries his face further into the softness of the pillow, grunting and closing his eyes firmly.

“Lou.” Rude and unkind hands shake his shoulders. “ _ Louis _ .”

“That’s my name.” He grumbles, “Go  _ away _ , I’m sleeping.”

There is a long sigh, then —

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off.”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“I said,  _ fuck off _ .”

“Don’t be like that.” The mattress dips down and Louis hogs all the sheets, not desiring any company under the covers. He basically can hear her pout, but he ignores it. He is in no mood to talk to her, or anyone. “You’re the one who just left.”

Louis snorts, that’s rich.

“I brought you water and painkillers?” Lara tries, “I made tea and eggs, too.”

“M’not hungry.”

Another moment passes, then the weight lifts off the bed and the door shuts. When it’s safe to say that he’s alone in the bedroom again, he rolls with a suffering wince onto his back. Pain throbs on his rib and he hisses when he strokes his fingers over it. He stares at the ceiling blankly. Tears sting in his eyes and he blinks them away, rubbing at the thin skin wrinkling around them.

Louis wishes he could erase last night from his memory - or the entire week more like.

He pokes the bruise and grits his teeth together, he deserves the pain, he welcomes it when it spreads through his whole body, causing the tears to spill over though he doesn’t deserve to cry. He preaches to Lara that she must talk to her girlfriend when he is no better, going behind Harry’s back, taking drugs he stole — from Harry, no less. What kind of boyfriend is he? The worst. He is the worst boyfriend and Harry should run, leave Louis before it’s too late.

Louis pinches the red spot for so long that it still aches when he lets go. It’s not  _ that _ bad - after all, he’s had worse. Also, the pain on his nose isn’t the worst he’s ever felt, and at least it’s not broken.  

“Can I come in?” Lara asks, voice muffled.

“No.” He rolls onto his good side, hiding his face behind his arms because he knows Lara won’t listen.

Sure enough the door cracks open and she pads inside, “You’re still wearing your shit from yesterday.” She observes. “What is that smell?”

“Mind your own business.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Louis.”

“Stop saying my name.” Louis snaps, finally. He sends her a glare, momentarily forgetting why he shouldn't. “What do you want? Why do you have to be so pushy? Just leave me the fuck alone, Lara.”

“Jesus Christ.” Lara mutters. “What is wrong with you? I’m just trying to — Oh my god, what happened to your face?” She covers her mouth with her hand, brown eyes wide with shock and wow, thank you, Lara. She sits down and Louis pulls the pillow over his face. She, of course, grabs it, trying to get it off him. He holds it tighter, hugging it so close it’s pressing down on his hurting nose and he can’t breathe. She tugs on it and Louis is exhausted so he lets go, causing it to fly right against her chest. She bounces back, but is quick to react, fingers cradling his chin and he avoids looking her in the eye. “Who did this?”

“Nobody.” He pulls away from her touch, rolling out of bed since he can’t go back to sleep anyway and pads into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

“Don’t lie, Lou.” She says, following and leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m not lying.” He chuckles unamused, observing the bruise on his nose that stretches across his cheek, yeah it doesn’t look pretty, but. Whatever, people are dying out there, he won’t cry about a colourful nose. “I wish I was lying.” He splashes water in his face, shivering at the coldness. “It was an accident.” He says, drying his face and applying toothpaste to his toothbrush, letting water drip over it before sticking it into his mouth.

“Tell me more.” Lara says, “Because this sounds ridiculous.”

“I tripped.” He slurs around the toothbrush, spitting the foam into the sink and rinsing his mouth with water. He licks over his front teeth, enjoying the minty taste on his tongue.

“Alright, whatever.” Lara muses.

“How did it go with Shany-Shane?” Louis asks, slipping off his green denim jacket, cringing at the vomit he sees on its sleeve. He lets it drop to the floor, leaving his shirt on, not wanting Lara to see his ribs, and also for his own benefit as he doesn’t fancy getting a good look at it either.

“Don’t call her that.” Lara scoffs, “She…is nuts.”

“I figured.”

Lara rolls her eyes, “No more Tinder dates.”

“No more Tinder dates whilst you’re in a relationship.” Louis corrects, passing her into the bedroom and out into the hallway. She’s hot on his heels, following him down to the kitchen.

Lara didn’t lie. She made tea and eggs and it’s all waiting for his turning stomach. He wrinkles his nose but hops onto the stool anyway, poking the egg with a fork. When she doesn’t answer, he glances up. Her bottom lip wobbles and her eyes avert to the ground, bare feet scratching over the floor.

“You know, if I had known you’d be a dickhead, I wouldn’t have bothered to check up on you.” She murmurs, rubbing her knuckle against her eye. “I am sorry okay? Please stop.”

Louis clicks his tongue, purses his lips and sighs. “Alright,” He says, “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Not when you’re just gonna be an arsehole about it. I’m just gonna wait for Harry, he’ll at least be nice to me.”

“You can’t tell him I was out last night.” Louis says quickly, biting hard down on his tongue a moment later as her eyes flash to him.

“Are you being serious right now?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m sorry.” Louis winces, “I know, I know.”

She huffs, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Nothing new to me.” Louis mutters, swallowing and hopping off the stool. “Let’s sit outside, I really need a smoke.”

Lara rolls her eyes, hand clenching to a fist, then her shoulders sag and she nods.  

“Have you heard from H?” Louis asks, opening the door and letting Lara pass through first.

“No.” Her brows pull together as she sits down on the steps, drawing her arms around her shins, resting her head on the top. “Haven't you?”

He bobs his head side to side, shifting his weight.

She glances over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow. “Go call your boyfriend.”

Louis smiles a tiny smile, then turns on his heels dashing up the stairs and pointedly ignoring the pain in his ribs. He drops onto the mattress, getting his phone out of his pocket and checking his messages. He recalls getting a text last night, that startled him in the panicked state he was in and he pulls at his lip, opening the chat, ignoring a message from Niall.

 

_ I miss you, can’t wait to come home!  _

_ \- H xxxxxx  _

 

He closes his eyes, guilt a heavy weight on his shoulders and it hurts more than his ribs ever could. He pinches the bridge of his nose, welcoming the burn as a distraction from the mind and soul destroying emotions and breathes out shakily. 

Louis doesn’t deserve Harry.

He hits the call button with trembling fingers.

“Hey babe, what's up?” Harry picks up at the second ring, a smile clear in his voice.

Louis falls onto his back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling with glossed over eyes. Harry’s voice alone makes his heart stutter and homesickness comes crashing over him, like an invisible weight that’s pressing him into the mattress. “Hey,” He whispers, after a beat of just breathing into the line and rustling on Harry’s side, “how are you?”

“I’m—” Harry is cut off by laughter in the background and he chuckles quietly along, calling something out to someone that Louis doesn’t understand very clearly, before the noises let up and a door closes. Louis listens as Harry exhales. “I’m okay, it was a hell of a night.” He finally says. “I’m sorry I’m not home yet, how are you holding up?”

Louis closes his eyes, “M’fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Harry murmurs, voice dipping low. Louis pictures him frowning and pulling on his bottom lip that Louis craves to kiss.

“I’m just…worried about you.” Louis says. It’s no lie -of course he worries when Harry isn’t with him. The underworld is a dark place and it’s easy to lose your life if you come in contact with the wrong people, and the police are your enemy as well, since you know, the stuff they do is illegal. Louis doesn’t think the police actually would help a dealer if something went really wrong, they’d probably just be glad the problem had fixed itself, one less dealer to worry about and all that. It’s unsettling because basically, you can’t trust anyone. Although Harry isn’t stupid or naive, reckless or keen to cause trouble, Louis still feels anxious when Harry doesn’t call or text or isn’t back home when he says he’ll be.

Harry tries his best, of course, he tries to be home as much as he’s able to. Louis shouldn’t make him feel bad about being away, when it’s not Harry’s personal choice. Still, a little selfish part of him wants Harry to be by his side.

“I miss you.” Louis brittles, voice going thin at the end and he swallows around nothing. He rubs his nose with angry fingers. He won’t cry whilst Harry is on the phone, Harry can’t know how bad Louis actually is doing. He can’t. Louis knows that Harry would come home the second he knows something really is off and leave his responsibilities behind. Louis can’t let him do that. There is a bigger picture out there than Louis and his wishes. He won’t put Harry into a difficult situation like that. No.  _ He won’t _ .

“I miss you too.” Harry murmurs and as Louis just holds his breath, he adds, “are you sure you’re good Louis?” Harry asks, “You know you can tell me, yeah?”

No.

“Yes, everything is peachy.”

“Louis.” Harry warns. He kind of wishes everyone would stop overusing his name. “Tell me—”

He’s quick to cut Harry off, blinking rapidly. “Don’t worry about me, love. I’m safe in the big house of yours, and Lara came by.”

Harry makes a pleased noise, Louis holds his breath, hoping he will drop it.

“That’s good. Alright.” There is a small pause. “I will..I think I’ll be home around nighttime, we had some trouble.” He sighs, probably ruffling his hair like he always does when he's stressed. “I can’t wait to see you.” He confesses, quietly. His honey voice is soothing to Louis' ears and his heart skips a beat. Louis is  _ not _ going to cry, he is  _ not _ .

Tears spill over not a second later. “Okay, you’re good though, yeah?”

“I’ll be when I’m home.” Someone is calling out to Harry and Louis knows he has to get off the phone. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”

“Yeah.”

The line goes dead.

Louis blinks teary-eyed at the ceiling, phone slipping out of his hand and onto the sheets. “Fuck.” He whimpers, sniffing his running nose.

He takes a few minutes to gather himself, get all the tears out of his body and he prays the sadness will leave with it. It stays and his heart sits heavy in his chest like a stone. He makes his way down, takes a deep inhale before opening the door a second time and plasters a smile on his lips. His cheek hurts from the unused stretch, which is a bit disconcerting, innit?

“Talk.” Louis decrees. Lara’s head snaps up to him, cigarette dangling from her lips.

“Harry’s alright?” She asks, breathing in the fumes, watching him as he sits next to her.

“Comes home tonight.” Louis nods, he crosses his fingers mentally and hopes it’s true. He craves to be close to Harry. He twists his lips. Let’s not think about that again, it’s already hard enough. Also, Lara needs his ear to talk off, so he’s on friend duty. It’s good because Lara’s problems are the perfect distraction from his own.

Lara nods, “Good, that’s great.” She sends him a small smile, then it falls. She runs a hand through her hair and takes her cig between her fingers, waving the glimmering stick around.“So Shane,” She begins, avoiding his eyes and fixing them at some point ahead.

“What happened after I left?” Louis observes her with raised brows, ducking his head to the side to avoid getting smoke in his eyes.

“We hooked up, dunno.” Lara gives a nonchalant shrug, like it’s nothing. The sadness he felt before is replaced by deep concern.

“Lara…” Louis says with a little sigh.

“Ivana’s not here, is she? She’s never here.” Lara’s voice raises and she sucks at her cigarette like her life depends on it, hollowing her cheeks and fussing with the tips of her hair before blowing the smoke out of her nostrils like an angry dragon, ready to take over the castle and burn down the town.

“She was here a week ago.” Louis reminds her gently, taking the cig from Lara before she hurts herself or him with the way her hands are shaking. He inhales deeply, needing the nicotine to think more clearly.

Lara waves a dismissive hand around. “Whatever, she is not here now nor will she be in a week.”

“Why? Thought she's coming home from holidays?” Louis frowns, exhaling smoke into the afternoon air, watching it curl and swirl in front of his eyes. “What happened between you two?”

“You wanna play footie?” She enunciates out of the blue.

Louis blinks dumbfounded at her, then frowns. “What?”

Lara shrugs, already getting up. “Let’s play footie. Or…” She falters, “Is it okay with…your nose?”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. His nose isn’t the problem, it’s his ribs but he can’t tell her that, so. “As long as you don't kick the bloody ball in my face, I should be good.”

She grins, getting up and taking the fag from Louis, taking the last drag and letting it fall into the ashtray. “You would deserve it though.”

He blinks at her and she smiles sweetly. “Anyway.” He says tiredly, ignoring her gleeful laughter all the way around the house.

Louis gets the ball out of the garage, pursing his lips when he can’t see the painting stuff but shrugs. Maybe Harry stored it somewhere else. 

Agreeing to play footie with a frustrated girl wasn’t a good idea. It bites him in the arse as she lets out all her anger on the ball, kicking it with too much force, sending it too high or right past Louis without him having time to react. Which means he runs more after the ball than he actually gets to kick it himself, which also means that his sides sting like hell and he swallows more air than he inhales like a human being. Louis is already panting, and it’s been only fifteen minutes out in the garden. 

Lara hasn’t said anything about anything, really, and this isn’t working. His body aches and he is bloody exhausted.

It takes three more missed kicks until he’s had enough. He stops the ball with his heel, putting his hands on his hips and sending Lara a hopefully not too frustrated but encouraging look.

“What?” She asks loudly, huffing like stopping the game is the worst thing that could happen to her. “Kick the ball, c’mon!” 

“New rule: one kick, one spill. Yeah?” He announces, wiping the sweat off his forehead. It’s a brilliant idea. 

“Yeah,” Lara agrees easily. “Whatever. Go on.” 

He kicks the ball to her, she catches it with her heel. Stopping and running a hand through her hair, she kicks it back and Louis is quick to catch the ball before it can pass him. His rib hurts like they’ve been struck with lightning and he concentrates on Lara.

“Ivana is ignoring me.” Lara says, shoulders hunching, “ _ Again _ .” She adds.

“Why is that?”  _ Kick _ . 

“I don’t know.”  _ Kick _ . 

“Well, don’t you guys talk, like at all? How do you make a relationship work like that?”  _ Kick _ . 

Louis wonders why they are even together when they don't talk or spend time with each other like people in relationships should do. Hell, he's basically living in Harry's home, no matter the reason or the loneliness he suffered through this week, he’d rather fall asleep in the bed that belongs to his favourite person than the bed that is his own in Lottie’s house. If he had any say, he'd tag along to all the drug deals, see Anne, and hang out with Gemma. Louis knows Harry would like that too, just has no power over it either. It’s complicated. 

“It’s not working, that’s the problem.” She stops the ball, glaring down at it like it’s the cause of all her problems. With that glare she could actually set that ball on fire. “I don’t know if I want to continue.” 

“With footie?” Louis pouts at her. “We just started.”

Lara snorts, shaking her head, “No, with Ivana.”

_ Oh _ .

“Oh.” He voices, rubbing his neck. “When was the last time you guys actually had a convo?” 

“Uh, Monday?” Lara frowns, kicking the ball harder than necessary. It flies high but Louis catches it with his chest, wincing quietly at the contact. Bringing the ball down to his feet and standing with his foot on it, he strokes the spot, rubbing all the aches away. 

“What did you guys talk about?” 

“Small talk.” She rolls her eyes, kicking the air. “Gimme the bloody ball. Don't be selfish.” 

Louis kicks it and she lets it bounce right back.

“ _ How are you? I’m fine. That’s great honey, the weather is nice, innit? _ ” Louis mocks with a high pitched voice, grinning when it makes Lara giggle. He sends the ball to her and she’s the one to stop it this time around. 

“Yeah something along those lines,” Lara says, sniffing and scratching beneath her nose. “I was so mad, I asked her when she’ll visit and she said she doesn’t know. So, I asked if I could visit her and she said it’s not a good idea.” The frustrated kick lets the ball fly right next to Louis' head, and he feels the air rushing past his ear. He stares at her with raised brows. She chuckles, “Whoops, sorry.” 

“You better be.” Louis rolls his eyes before jogging after it.

When he’s back, he says, “What if she isn’t out to her parents?” 

Lara purses her lips. “I’m not sure, we  _ never _ talk about parents.” 

Louis can sympathise, so he makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He jogs with the ball between his feet over to her, letting it bounce from the inside of his feet until he’s rounded Lara three times, then he comes to a halt in front of her.

She bites her wobbling lip. He sighs, drawing her into an embrace. Lara buries her face into his neck, squeezing his sides, digging her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for being a twat earlier.” He whispers. “That’s why you went out with this scary Shane girl?” 

Lara snorts then nods. “Yeah, I just wanted someone who… _ cares _ or whatever, I hate being alone. After you left she urged me to go too. I wanted to wait for you, but…” She trails off, sighing quietly. “We went to my house, and…” She leaves the sentence unfinished but he understand and just squeezes her tighter. 

“I shouldn’t have left.” He mutters, meaning it in more ways than she ever could assume. A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of hiding behind the car, thinking he’d met his end.

“Ivana might leave, but you know what will stay forever?” Lara asks, pulling out of the hug. 

“The stars?” Louis takes a guess without actually thinking about it, wrinkling his nose at his own cheesy response. 

Lara snorts, eyebrows lifting to her hairline. “Oooh, and I thought that Harry is the sap in your relationship.” 

He can’t help but blush as she giggles. 

“No, idiot — Snow White.” She wiggles her eyebrows, smirking. Louis’ stomach turns in on itself. “It won’t ever break your heart. Isn’t that beautiful?” 

It’s not beautiful. It’s anything but beautiful. Louis thinks of the paintings in Harry’s bedroom. They are beautiful. The way Harry looks naked on the sheets, all pink cheeks and messed up hair, is beautiful. Harry’s laugh is beautiful. The way the sun shines through the room and kisses Harry’s skin is beautiful. Cocaine isn’t beautiful. It might never break your heart but it’ll make it stop at some point, if you overdo it. If you love it too much, it will kill you. However, he can’t say any of that out loud - he’d sound like a hypocrital arsehole. He presses his lips into a small line. 

“I have some more cash and you got the dust,” Lara says, grinning like a cat that got the cream. Like it’s a good idea. It's not. “Coke kills all the bad feelings. C’mon, I’m done with feeling like utter shit and whining about my girlfriend not being a girlfriend.”

Awkwardly, Louis clears his throat, and when she narrows her eyes in confusion at him he shrugs, scrubbing a hand over the whole over his face. He doesn’t want to do coke is the thing, he hadn’t even thought about doing lines today. After his trip last night he actually wanted to try to stay away but — 

“Why not…” He gives in with a long-suffering sigh. At least he won’t be feeling any pain, he muses. It’s a solid reason, innit? 

It’s not. 

Lara, however, is oblivious to his struggle or what happened after he left the pub. Lara has no knowledge of the fact that Louis is trying to be better too. All she knows is that he can’t leave the house. He can’t blame her for his own weak will when she grins widely like nothing is wrong and ruffles his hair in delight. “Good. That’s why you, Louis, are my favourite.” 

He doesn’t reply, just pulls on his neckline with trembling fingers and smiles thinly at her. Louis trails after Lara inside, feet heavy and heart clenching with the faint longing to refuse, to tell her off, to say yeah, you do coke, I’ll take a nap. He doesn’t though, because there is a spell taking over his body that keeps his mouth shut. 

At least he won’t be stealing from Harry. It should lift the weight off his body, it should tame the unease in his gut. However, he walks up to the bedroom anyway, ignoring the paintings and his phone and gets the shoebox out from under the bed, taking a small packet of cocaine before returning to the living room, jaw tense. 

Lara has some of her make-up spread over the coffee table, and when she notices him she waves him over. “Alright, before we get high and enter wonderland, let’s do something about your ugly bruise.” 

“What?” Louis pulls his brows together, letting the packet fall between the cosmetics. Lara snatches it, handing him the money that he pockets with a gulp. 

She rolls her eyes, muttering something like ‘ _ boys, honestly _ ’ under her breath before she holds her hand out in direction of the table, like a sales woman presenting products. “Sit down and just let me do the work.” Lara purses her lips in thought. “This won’t last forever, yeah? After your shower it’ll come off and you gotta do it yourself.” 

“No way!” He exclaims exaggeratedly, clutching his heart mockingly. “Here I thought, the  _ boy _ I am and all, that it’d just stay on my skin until the day I die, what a bummer.” 

“Bugger off, I’m just saying.” She grins, “in case you forget and give Harry a heart attack looking like that.” 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Louis frowns. It’s a tad foolish to think he actually can hide the bruise from Harry. He’ll probably find out sooner or later and then Louis will have to explain why he hid it in the first place. Make-up, like Lara said, won’t last forever.

He sits down on the cushion next to her, angling his body in her direction. His lashes flutter as she starts applying the make-up. 

“Stop wiggling your nose.” Lara says, slapping his shoulder. 

“Sorry.” 

“Yeah, just hold still.” 

After another round of bickering, Lara telling Louis that he’s a bloody child who’s acting like he needs to wee, squirming in his seat with every stroke of the pad on his skin, she holds his jaw in a death-grip, slapping his good cheek every time he does as much as breathe. 

“Let's do dust!” She says, finally, clapping her hands to get the make-up powder or whatever off them. “You look like a brand new person. All pretty and ready to see your boy."

“Thanks.” Louis mutters. His heart gives a tug, but he ignores it. “Are you trying to come up with new words for it every time we take it or…”

“I’m trying to be creative.” Lara states matter-of-factly, gathering her cosmetics and letting them fall into her purse without much care. She gets out her wallet, holding the credit card right under his nose. “You do the honour.” 

The _honour_. 

Louis doesn’t feel very honoured when he forms the tiny lines, lets Lara go down first, sniffing it up with a rolled fiver and swallows his anxiety when it’s his turn. 

The moment it shoots up his nose, the negative emotions fade and a warm feeling settles over his body. His limbs vibrate and he can’t hold off a sick smile.

Perhaps it all makes it worth it. It’ll only last half an hour, if he’s lucky forty minutes, an hour. It’s his break from the negativity, the guilt, the regret.  

He still misses Harry, even when he’s in wonderland and everything seems light and fun. 

 

*    *    *

 

“Should I be jealous?” 

Louis blinks his eyes open. He didn’t fall asleep, just resting on the comfortable bed, his arms are wrapped around Lara’s sleeping figure. She’s snoring into the pillow that Louis had cried on hours prior. Glancing to where the deep voice is coming from with droopy eyes, a smile slowly takes over his face. 

Harry leans with his right shoulder against the door frame, duffle bag placed at his feet and his arms folded over his chest. His hair is a mess, held back by a blue bandana that’s sprinkled with little white dots. For a moment Louis is too hung up on the fact that Harry is home, that he forgets everything all at once. 

“No need to be.” Louis grunts, stretching his limbs and rolling onto his back, hand hovering over his face and in the last second he remembers that he can’t rub his itching nose. He lets it fall to the side with a dull plop. 

“I come home and find you with someone that’s not  _ me _ in  _ my _ bed, hmm-huh.” As Harry steps closer, the amusement painted on his face drops. “What’s up with her?” 

Louis shrugs awkwardly, shoulders pressed into the mattress. She’s in the afterglow, that’s what’s up with her, exhausted and sad after the rush of energy left her body. Mood crashing back down with double the weight and she was out like a light the moment he threw a blanket over her shaking frame. “Let's talk downstairs.” 

Harry nods, eyes flickering from Louis to Lara and back. He doesn’t say anything when they make their way through the hallway, their steps the only sound. It’s past midnight, Louis notices when they sit on the cushion, and he gets a glimpse of the clock above the telly. 

“How was it? Where have you been?” Louis asks, blinking drowsily at Harry. 

Harry huffs. “Don’t even ask, I had two bad days in a row.” 

“What happened?” Louis frowns in concern. 

“Si—” Harry stops himself and clears his throat. He scratches his Adam’s apple before starting over. “My boss wanted me to stay, we sold so much in strip clubs around Manchester, I worked for one night as bartender.” He laughs self-consciously, glancing at Louis then lets his gaze droop. “Never saw that coming, but it was a good alibi.”

“That’s where you were? In strip clubs?” Louis lifts his brows. 

Harry nods, “I’ve never seen so many tits in my life.” 

They both chuckle before sobering up. 

“I’m knackered.” Harry yawns.

“Next time you could let me know.” Louis muses. “I was worried and I never know if I can call you or not. It's a weird feeling not knowing what you’re up to when you leave.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…I went from one place to the other, so many people, never a second alone.” Harry rolls his head to the side, peeking at Louis through barely half-opened lids. 

Louis isn't mad, not really. Not when Harry looks like he hasn’t gotten any sleep the past days, or eaten any food. It’s all a bit concerning, the hollow of his cheeks, the circles beneath his dull eyes, there is even colour missing from his lips. He also smells of days old sweat and three different perfumes mixed together, flowery and biting and just not Harry. The stench of weed and cold smoke make Louis' nose itch more. He suppresses the urge to rub it, scared the makeup will come off or something. 

“It’s alright.” Louis says, at last. He isn't one to talk anyway. 

Harry’s sigh stretches into another lion-yawn. “There…there is this party, uh house party in Macclesfield.” He says, “I’m invited, since I’m friends with the host. I won’t just drop off the drugs. Could be fun.” 

“Nice.” Louis clicks his tongue. That’s great, peachy. He angles his body away from Harry. “I’m going to bed—” He gets yanked back down and falls onto Harry’s lap. He buries his face between Louis’ shoulder blades, inhaling softly. It makes it up for the pain that shoots up Louis’ ribcage. 

“You’re coming with me.” He sing-songs, softly, “If you want to, of course.” 

“You’re shitting me.” Louis snorts in disbelief. 

“M’not.” Harry mutters, kissing the fabric of Louis’ shirt over his spine and pulling away, so Louis is able to turn around and face him. 

He’s straddling Harry’s lap, searching in his face for a sign that this is some sick prank. But all he can find in the green eyes is genuine happiness, and though his eyes are heavy lidded and dark rimmed, there is a sparkle in them when Harry rests the back of his head on the sofa and strokes his hands up and down Louis' spine. 

“Alright.” Louis says, pecking Harry’s lips. “How am I suddenly allowed to leave the house?” 

Harry’s hands falter in the soothing pattern, before he picks it up a second later, sighing tiredly. “We’re not going anywhere in Manchester, no club or whatever, I’m with you and we’re inside. Nothing can happen.” 

“Okay,” Louis draws the word out, “obviously I’m coming with you.” He rolls his eyes, before nuzzling Harry’s neck, kissing the skin under his ear. 

Harry nudges him until Louis gets the hint and they lay on the long side of the sofa, side by side. He opens his arms for Harry, snuggling close immediately, pressing his nose in Louis' crook of his neck and inhaling deeply.

“Good, I don’t want you to feel trapped in this house.” He murmurs, sighing, “It’s not a cage, Lou, it’s home.” 

Louis swallows thickly, a new wave of guilt washing over him. “Home is wherever you are.” He replies, the images of last night poking his mind. He dodges them and concentrates on Harry. The way he folds himself into Louis, the way his breaths even out slowly, the feeling of soft lips kissing Louis’ skin. The different colognes that are unfamiliar and the cold smoke that clings to Harry’s curls. 

“I really like the sound of that.” Harry mumbled, already half-asleep. 

Louis closes his own eyes, willing them to stop stinging. It feels like he was crying all day long. He told himself he’s done with it — apparently, not so much. 

“Me too.” Louis says, because he can’t think of a better place than Harry’s arms. 

They fall asleep on the couch that’s too small for the both of them laying next to each other, but they make it work. Louis ends up half on top of Harry at some point, his thigh between Harry’s legs and his head rested on Harry’s chest, subtly keeping Harry's arms from his rib. 

Louis promises himself that he’ll talk to Harry, tell him what happened, that he’s sorry and he wants to be better. 

 

*    *    * 

 

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” 

Louis glances at the guys surrounding a table, all of them laughing when a girl pours some more Jägermeister into the held out shot glasses. 

They all make a grimace after they throw back the liquor and Louis snorts, because Jägermeister is still better than pure vodka. 

Louis  _ loves _ Jägermeister. 

He observes the living room some more. There are not as many people like at that student party held in the shabby flat, but it’s enough to raise the heat in the room. The music is just a background sound to the chatter and laughter of people, some younger than Louis, some older. Nothing special besides the house he’s in. It’s posh and everything is held in white - the floor is white, the walls are white, the sofa he’s sitting on is white. There is no colour in this goddamn house and Louis thinks, they will regret holding this party in a hotel-like house like this one, since drunk people are sloppy. 

That all aside, it’s boring, honestly, Louis has seen better parties than this. 

He expected more, since the hosts are apparently wealthy or some shit. 

The cushions dip down as a girl sits beside him. She grins and he returns a closed lipped smile, knowing he should be more friendly if he wants to sell his shit tonight but he’s not in the mood. Hasn’t even had a proper drink.

“Hey,” the girl says, leaning close.

“Hello.” He greets, arching a brow. “May I help you?” 

The girl shrugs. “You look way too sober.” 

“It’s because I am sober.” He says, smiling a bit wider. 

She rolls her blue eyes. “Let’s change that.” 

Before Louis has any chance to say no to her offer, she’s already laced their fingers, tugging him off the sofa and into the kitchen.  On the way, he gets a glimpse of Harry, and when they make eye contact, Harry winks at him, not breaking the conversation he’s having with some bloke with black hair.  

Louis shakes his head, hiding his grin with a dip of his chin to his chest. 

“What do you want?” The girl asks. Louis still has no idea what her name is and he doesn’t really care anyway. 

“Don’t care,” He says, leaning his bum against the counter as she gets to work to mix them some drinks. 

“You’re no fun.” She pouts, a flirty glint in her blue eyes. 

“I never said I was,” He grins despite himself. “Gimme.” He makes grabby-hands at the red cup. She hands it to him, bringing her own cup to her mouth and taking the smallest of sips in history. He swallows almost everything, wrinkling his nose at the burning in his throat. 

“What is this?” He asks, coughing. “You trying to kill me?” 

She laughs. “It’s a whole load whiskey with a tiny drop of coke.” 

He nods curtly, “Gross, that explains it then. Also, you’ve got a bad taste.” 

“You’re just weak, is all.” 

Chuckling, he gulps the rest of his drink, this time not even twitching his eye. 

She rolls her eyes again.

“Heard you got something better than alcohol.” She prompts.

“Where did you hear that?” Louis raises his brows, refilling his cup with water.

She shrugs, “People talk.”

“Oh yeah, that is correct. We don’t bark at each other, we use words.”

It coaxes a laugh out of her. “What’s your name?”

“Louis.”

“Hi, I’m Amanda.”

“Sooo, what do you want, Amy?” He slowly forms a smile, “snow? Molly?”

“Snow will do.” She says, “Got like seventy on me, is that enough?”

“Sure is.” Louis gets out a pack and she hands him the money. He always is amazed how much money people spend on drugs. Seventy is just enough for one little gram. They're all students, so where do they get the money from? Louis is an exception; his parents are rich and he never spent a lot before he started doing lines, which lead to a full bank account. However, not anymore.

“Wanna do a line with me?”

He glances through the open kitchen door, hearing Harry’s laugh over the chatter.

Louis shakes his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

The pout returns but Louis just fixes his eyes on the water in his hand.

“You’re not here to pull, are you?” She asks knowingly.

“I’m taken.” Louis says, “My boyfriend is just in the other room.”

“Right, boyfriend.” She sighs, “The curly haired model is also gay.” Louis draws his lips into his mouth to stifle his grin. “Why is everyone in here gay?”

“I know someone who is very much not gay,” Louis says, laughing, “I bet you guys would get along just great.”

“Oh?” Her ears basically perk up at that, delighted. “Who’s it?”

“C’mon, he has to be here somewhere.”

They make their way back into the living room, no sight of the blond head he’s looking for until he gets a glimpse of it from outside.

“This way,” Louis nods towards the glass door, “you don’t mind a smoker, do you?”

Amanda shakes her head.

“Great,” he smiles brightly before leading her outside.

Niall is standing with his back towards them, telling some story to a group of drunk guys, Irish accent a thick layer.

“Oi! Niall!”

“Hiya,” Niall grins, turning, glance flickering from Amanda to Louis and back, “who’s this lovely girl?”

Louis tries to hold back a smug smirk. “This, dear Niall, is Amanda.” He says, “Amanda, darling, this is Niall. He’s Irish and loves whiskey.”

Amanda giggles, outstretching her hand for a shake. Niall’s eyebrows raise in surprise but he takes her hand. “Nice meeting ya,” He sends Louis another confused look, Louis just winks.

“Hey,” Amanda grins right back.

And with that, Louis’ job is done, so he claps both of them on the shoulder. “You’re welcome,” He mumbles in Niall’s ear before he slips back inside, hearing Amanda’s laugh in reply to whatever Niall had said.

“Matchmaker?” Harry greets him, raising his brows once.

“I’m waiting for the invitation to the wedding.”

“That great of a match?”

“I’m awesome.”

“I know you are.” Harry smiles, dimple showing and deepening when Louis steps into his space.

“Sold coke and got Niall a bird, who am I?” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows when he dips his head back to make eye contact with Harry.

Harry brushes his fringe off Louis' forehead. “Niall should pay you too.” He says, kissing Louis' nose. He tries not to tense, he's still using Lara’s make-up that she left him.

“Are you ready to—” Louis gets cut off by a hand clapping him on his shoulder.

“Louis!” A blonde guy grins, blue eyes sparkling.

Louis blinks confused, Harry chuckling in amusement, which…is no help.

“Uh, hi…” Louis says, wanting to take a step out of Harry’s arms, but Harry won’t let him. His grip tightens.

He craned his neck to have a better look at the guy, he seems familiar, maybe a buyer.

“I’m still waiting for that call.” The guy says, eyes flickering from Harry to Louis, an unsure layer to his voice now clear to pick up on.

“Felix?” Louis lifts a brow, “Oh hey.”

Harry lets up from him, stepping back and says, “Find me later,” then he disappears. Louis feels a pang of disappointment in his chest that he’s been left alone with Felix, that guy from campus who ate all his gummy bears.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I live here, you’re at my party.” Felix says easily, but before Louis can even feel bad about that, he continues, “Can I get you a drink?”

His throat still burns from the whiskey, but he nods anyway. He’s been rude enough and Harry is nowhere to be found to save his arse, so he can’t stomach this chat without a drink in his hand.

“You have a…lovely house.” Louis says as they make their way into the kitchen. There are two girls whispering to each other in the corner, both of them stop to glance at the boys when they enter. Louis feels oddly exposed when one of the girls eyes him up and bites her lips.

Uh, no thanks.

“Aye, thank you, Louis,” Felix says, getting two actual glasses out of the cabinet and filling them with vodka and lemonade, handing Louis one glass and clicking his own against Louis’.

“Cheers.” Louis mutters before gulping liquid down his throat. Some escapes and runs down his chin, he winces as he feels it drip on his shirt.

He has to do laundry.

When he sets the glass on the cooking island, Felix’s thumb is suddenly there — right in his face, wiping away the drop, licking it off his thumb. His glance shies away (which is quite the opposite of the confident action he just did) when Louis blinks at him with wide eyes.

“Uh…” Louis says awkwardly, shifting his weight.

“You enjoying the party?” Felix asks, grinning. 

“I am.” Louis nods, scratching his neck awkwardly. He really, really wants to find Harry. He’s also ready to go home. 

“Me too, last year my brother kicked me out,” Felix chuckles. “Said I’m too young and all, so it’s my first house party in my own home.” 

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Felix says, puffing out his chest proudly. 

Louis snorts, “Cute.” 

That…was the wrong word because Felix peers at him. Louis swallows around a lump. This is not harmless friendship making, this is flirting. It may not be coming from Louis' side but he can see it clear on Felix’s face. 

Oh Jesus, help me, Louis thinks, as Felix steps closer. 

“D’you have somewhere to sleep tonight?” He asks, batting his eyelashes. Felix probably thinks it looks flirty and cute, but in reality he looks like he’s got something in his eye. 

“He does, yes.” Comes a voice from the doorway. 

Louis rolls his eyes heavenward, sending a quick prayer for whoever sent Harry to him. 

“Oh,” Felix straightens his spine. “Harry is it?” He asks, like Harry wasn’t standing with Louis when he cut into their conversation. Louis rolls his eyes behind Felix’s back. Harry sees though and he bites down an amused grin, schooling his features into something more controlled, more friendly. 

Harry Styles everyone, the guy with a lot of personalities and Louis likes to say that he knows every single one. Adores them, too.

“That’s correct.” Harry says, sending the giggling girls in the corner a smirk, eyes quickly back on his target. 

“I think we met on campus too.” Felix recalls, eyeing Harry. 

Harry shrugs causally. “Could be, who knows?” He is fucking lying, Louis grins. “Plus I’m at your party anyway.” He cocks his head to the side.“Actually, Seth invited me. Where is your brother?” 

Felix frowns. “Why?” 

“He wanted some recommendations for comic books, of course,” Harry smiles slowly, unfazed. “And, I wanted to say hi.” 

“Upstairs. Probably busy.”

Harry nods. “Alright, then.” Harry directs his attention to Louis. “Lou, you wanna dance?” 

Both sets of eyes are fixed on him but he’s still hung up on the name. Seth? As in the one he met at that pub? 

Apparently he’s taking too long, because Harry lifts a surprised eyebrow, reading his silence completely wrong, and Felix…that bastard has the nerve to smirk, like he won something. 

“I’ll go out for a smoke.” Is what Louis says in the end, after that they can dance, he decides. First he needs fresh air, to get all the fog out of his mind. “And you are coming with me.” He points at Harry, “I forgot my lighter at home.” 

Louis did not forget his lighter, he’s only forgetful with unnecessary stuff, like you know…his phone. 

Louis knows that Harry knows that, his cigarettes are holy and so is his lighter. 

“I can give you mine,” Felix offers quickly, “I’m up for a smoke too.” Offhandedly he says to Harry, “I’m sure you can find someone else to dance with,  _ dealer _ .” Felix turned from being annoying to being an annoyingly rude twat, so he can’t really blame Harry when he gets in Felix’s way, an outstretched arm blocking the door. 

“I let you flirt with my boyfriend,” Harry says, voice low. The girls in the corner have stopped talking, both staring at Harry and Felix. “I let you give him your number, and I’m trying very hard not to let my anger get to me because I don’t want to hurt the little brother of my friend.” Though he’s just one year older than Felix, he looks much older in this moment. “So, if you cannot get a damn hint, I’ll say it for you. Leave him alone, and I’m saying this in the nicest way. I won’t stand here and let you brush me off, just because you’re the co-host.” 

Felix opens his mouth but closes it again, swallowing. 

“I’d be careful not to mess with me, because I’m the one with the stuff everyone is here for.” Harry jerks a finger at him, then a smile shoots across his face. “But, hey.” He says, much more brightly than his low threatening voice prior, “Did you know your name means lucky in Latin?” 

“Uh…” Felix draws the sound out, probably confused about Harry’s mood swings. 

Harry’s fake smile disappears as quickly as it appeared, “Get lucky somewhere else.” 

Louis lifts his eyebrows, equally stunned and impressed. He kind of wants to applaud. 

Felix huffs, shouldering past Harry who calls ‘ _ Nice house, mate! Cheers! _ ’ cheerily after him. Felix sends both of them a last annoyed glare, blue eyes lingering on Louis for a beat, like he played him dirty or summat, then he’s swallowed by the crowd in the bustling living room. 

“What the fuck?” Louis laughs, “You scared the shit outta the boy.” 

“He’ll get over it.” Harry grins, chuckling when Louis leans on the cooking island, burying his face in his folded arms. 

The girls leave them alone too and then it’s just Harry and Louis in the kitchen and it’s the first time Louis has gotten to be with Harry without any curious eyes on them or anyone who wants to interrupt, pull them apart. His boyfriend knows a lot of people (basically everybody) and because they are here to sell drugs, they haven’t had any time with each other. 

Louis stands more upright before hopping onto the island, letting his legs swing freely. He smirks at Harry, coaxing him forward with two fingers.

Harry is quick to obey, standing between his parted legs, hands finding the swell of his bum, fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers under the hem of Louis' shirt.

Slinging his arms around Harry’s neck, he has no idea how much time they’ve left, so he leans in quickly, pressing their lips together with a relieved sigh. Harry parts his lips, letting Louis take control, welcoming his tongue with a gentle nudge of his own. Inhaling through his nose, Harry leans back, breaking the kiss and making Louis chase after his sinful lips for more. 

Harry’s chuckle causes Louis’ eyelashes flutter open, and he pouts. 

“The angry boyfriend act is kinda hot,” Louis murmurs, “got me all worked up.” 

“Is that so?” Harry crooks a smug eyebrow, smirk growing on his face. 

“Perhaps,” Louis rolls his eyes, “I mean, he was rude to you.” 

“Happens once in awhile,” Harry pecks his lips, “we could find the bathroom?” He wiggles his fingers under Louis' shirt, thumbs circling on his skin, “How about that? The party is boring, let’s make it more fun.” 

“How much do you have left?” 

“Some,” Harry shrugs, pouting, “So…you don’t want a blowjob in the bathroom?” 

Louis grins slowly. “I do, actually. Never could turn your mouth down.” He brings his hand down to Harry’s semi, feeling it twitch against his palm. Harry leans more into the touch.

Louis draws his hand back and Harry huffs in frustration, “C’mon Lou.” He growls, nipping at Louis' collarbone.

He shakes his head. “Find me when you’ve sold your drugs, big bad Drug Dealer.” 

Harry looks at him, flabbergasted. “Are you serious? I can basically see your boner.” He whimpers. “Lemme do something about it.” He grins, kissing Louis' neck. 

“Sell the rest of the drugs, then find me, baby.” Louis orders one final time, sealing the words with a kiss, careful not to let it become more than that, and hops off the island.

“You—” Harry turns to watch Louis walk away. “This is hell.”

Louis turns, walking backwards until he reaches the doorway, “Hell is just a sauna, darling.” He winks, holding eye contact for another beat, then, a moment later he finds himself outside, cigarette dangling from his lips while he fumbles with the lighter. 

“Lou!” Niall grins, throwing a casual arm around his shoulder, “Thanks mate, Amanda is great.” 

“So great you left her…where?” Louis asks, breathing out the grey smoke.

Niall chuckles, “Toilet.” 

“Ah,” Louis draws out the word, “when is the wedding?” 

Barking out a laugh, Niall squeezes his shoulder. “Hm, I think I’d like an autumn wedding,” He purses his lips, “in Ireland.” 

“On a cliff?” 

Niall nods curtly, “On a cliff.” 

“So you can jump off when you get cold feet?” 

“Oi!” 

They laugh, passing the cigarette back and forth.

“What about you and Harry?” 

“What about us?” Louis asks, throwing the cig over the railing from the terrace. It lands somewhere in the dark, hopefully not setting the grass on fire or something. 

“Mate, you basically live with him, you act like an old-married couple already.” 

Louis chuckles with lifted brows. “Ah, young Neil. Harry would make a  _ lovely _ husband. His cooking is a gift from the Gods.” 

“He’s over the moon for you.” Niall frowns, seriousness colouring his face, “You know that, right?” 

Louis blinks surprised. “Uh, guess so? We’re together after all.” 

Niall smiles a tad too sad for the topic. “I hope you guys stay together too. I’m your captain, the biggest supporter of this ship.” 

“Eh?” Louis scrunches his nose, “What ship?” 

Rolling his eyes, he simply says, “Your relationship.” 

“Right,” Louis nods though he still is a bit confused. “Are you high?” That’d explain the nonsense teenager language.

Niall shakes his blond head. “I’m just happy you guys found each other. I hope you guys will make it through this time.” 

“What time?” 

“Get away from the drugs, build a life somewhere far away, yeah? And if you do, don’t forget about me.” 

“Niall…” Louis warns with an embarrassing emotion-loaded voice, swallowing all the hope that Niall’s words brought alive. 

“Just saying mate, you two deserve better.” With that, Niall presses a sloppy, wet kiss to his temple and is off with a “gonna look for my dream girl!” 

Louis stares after him until his eyes burn because he hasn’t blinked once. He gets a glimpse of Harry talking to a group of girls, all hung onto his lips. Their eyes meet and Harry winks before getting a pack out of his pockets, still holding eye contact, when he exchanges it for money.

Louis clicks his tongue, getting another cigarette out. 

If they would have met at University, Harry an art student, Niall as his sidekick while Louis pondered over books in the library, the loud Irish laugh would make him look up but instead of seeing Niall, he’d make eye contact with Harry. His hair a mess, his cheeks smeared with paint. Louis would’ve fallen there and then for the boy, and Harry would smile, being his charming self. Niall would catch on and guide them over, Harry mildly protesting because he’s embarrassed just sitting with a random student but Louis would offer the free chairs, when Niall asks if he’s waiting on someone. They would make small talk, all of them, while Louis tries to sneak glances at Harry. Harry would notice, and Niall would make fun of them from the very beginning. They would go out, in a shitty diner and Louis would tell Harry, he has no idea what to do with his life, that the subject he’s studying bores him to death, Harry would have every answer he’s been looking for and it would be easy — normal.

Seeing his boyfriend sell drugs is not normal and Niall’s words ring in his ears as he sucks on his fag desperately. 

Louis wants the normal stuff with Harry. The feeling when Harry smiles at him is exciting enough, he doesn’t need the kick of selling drugs. They could make money legally. They could pull it off too, just moving across the country, maybe backpacking through Europe, sleeping in motels until their money runs out and then each of them had to get a job in some pub. Louis would come home to Harry painting in their little shoebox flat. Louis would learn how to cook, and when Harry comes home, he would wine and dine the shit out of him, while they pretend they are in some fancy restaurant instead of sitting on a table that’s too small to fit both of them. 

Louis closes his eyes, drawing in a big breath.

There are other problems too, not only drugs. Louis is something  _ like _ a maybe-addict, Anne is still in the institution. Louis doesn’t mind leaving his family behind - as in his parents, the thought of leaving Lottie stings a bit more. 

They can’t just run away.

Maybe they don’t need to run away, anyway. Maybe they can find another path to make it all work. 

Louis knows one person and one person only who could help. The door opens and Louis glances over his shoulder, the thoughts of calling Zayn to ask for advice dying as Harry slings his arms around his body from behind. Louis bites his lip as Harry’s arm presses down on his bad rib. 

He still melts into the hug, what does pain matter if it means Harry holds him? 

“Hi.” Louis whispers into the night air. “Sold everything yet?”

Harry sighs, breath tickling Louis' hair. “No, sadly.”

“Awh,” He turns facing Harry with a smirk. “That's just too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, brushing Louis’ hair off his forehead, fingers trailing over his cheekbone and Louis tries not to flinch at the touch. Harry frowns, thumb lifting Louis’ chin an inch, his brows twitch. Louis isn't breathing.

“Are you…” Harry blinks rapidly, smiling confused, “wearing make-up?” Goddamnit, Harry has to notice just everything, eh? Louis really tried to be subtle about it, it worked so far but apparently his luck had ran out.

Louis attempts a smile, searching his brain for a good way to turn it into a joke, laugh it off, but then he looks into Harry’s green eyes and there is an unreadable glint in them and all the witty remarks die on the tip of his tongue.

“Well,” Louis says, eventually, “would you like that? Me wearing lipstick for you?”

“I’m not talking about lipstick, Louis.”

So much for that, eh?

“What?” Louis scoffs, stepping out of Harry’s arms and leaning against the railing, the bar digging into his spine so hard it almost hurts.  

Harry hums, stepping closer, caging Louis in with his arms. He cradles Louis’ chin, turning it to the side, but Louis’ moves his head out of his touch. “What are you doing?” He chuckles nervously, “You’re crazy, I’m not wearing make-up, not that old that I need to hide my wrinkles, eh?” Swallowing thickly, he feels hot under Harry’s stare, too cornered between Harry’s body and the railing. It’s all too much and Louis’ heart flutters in panic. “Anyway,” He tugs on the collar of his shirt, “better get back inside, eh? See if we can annoy some people.” He goes for a cheeky smile, but his bottom lip twitches, like it doesn’t know how to form one anymore.

Harry raises a slow eyebrow, still staring into Louis’ soul. He’s going to call him out on his bullshit, Harry won’t let him off the hook if he really does think something is wrong, but then he shrugs, much to Louis’ surprise and then steps away. “Yeah, could use a drink.” He drawls, holding the door open for Louis to slip through.

Back inside Harry guides Louis to the couch, telling him he’s going to get them something to drink, and whilst Harry is busy in the kitchen, Louis glances around. There still are a lot of people present. Niall is talking to Amanda, one hand holding him up at the wall, head ducked down and his blue eyes sparkle as Amanda tells him some story gesturing wildly with her hands, Niall’s lips leave his usual ‘ha ha ha’ laugh and Louis grins but it’s only temporary, eyes drooping to his lap.

He bites on his thumb nail anxiously.

However, before he can start overthinking and jump into panic mode, Harry is back by his side, plopping down on the cushion with a sigh and two drinks in his hands. Louis accepts the cup with a smile, and dares to snuggle close when Harry throws his arm behind him on the rest of the sofa.

“Guess who’s here.” Harry asks, tilting his head down and smiling at Louis with raised brows.

“Did Lara make it?” Louis glances around in delight, trying to get a glimpse of the girl, but Harry shakes his head and Louis pouts. “Ah, too bad.” He muses with a sigh. They haven’t talked since she left Friday, telling him they will see each other at the house party. He wonders how she’s holding up and the fact that she’s home and not amongst them lets him assume she’s still hanging in the land of somber mood. Lara is a party person, always where the drinks are at, so. “We should have picked her up, dragged her arse here.”

Harry chuckles, taking a sip from his drink and kissing Louis’ temple, “Should have, could have.” He agrees. “At least we got Liam to leave his hideout.”

Louis bobs his head, rubbing his chin. “That’s true. He misses Zayn.”

Both of them watch Liam talk to some girl with blonde hair, then Louis frowns, directing his attention back to Harry. “You didn’t tell me who’s here.”

“Hm, what?”

“You said, guess who’s here.” Louis repeats, “I don’t know, there’s a lot of people here so please enlighten me as to who you were talking about since it’s not our angry pixie.”

“Oh!” Harry grins brightly, “You gonna hate this.”

Great. Louis narrows his eyes as Harry giggles mischievously.

“Harry…” Louis warns, “spill.”

Harry bites his bottom lip, eyes sparkling.“The girl you stole the hat from!” He exclaims then, all giddy and gloating.

Louis jaw slacks. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m afraid not.” Harry says, pointing with the cup in his hand to a group of girls, and yeah, sure enough, Louis recognises the girl from the uni party, dark hair loose and without a hat this time around.

“No fucking way.” Louis dips his head back in his neck. “Why? Harry,  _ why _ ?”

“Because she knows Seth from Uni. They’re good friends.”

“Everybody literally knows  _ everybody _ , this is insane.” Louis chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “How’s that even possible?”

“We’re all a big group of friends, we all love each other very much.” Harry states, voice serious though there is a glint of amusement in his eyes when he looks at Louis.

“Let’s share some love then.” Louis says, smirking, leaning closer to Harry.

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Yeah.” Louis whispers, but before his lips can catch Harry’s, Harry leans out of reach. Louis pouts.

“Good, start with Mandy. Tell her you’re sorry.”

“You cannot be serious right now.” Louis blinks.

Harry shrugs casually, taking a sip of his drink, eyes basically smirking at Louis over the rim. “Go on.”

“This is the payback for the kitchen thing, isn’t it?” Louis narrows his eyes.

Harry snorts into the cup, wiping his mouth after and nodding, “If you’re playing dirty, so am I.”

“Unbelievable.” Louis mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to apologise, you’re the one who’s keeping her bloody hat.” It's sitting proudly on top of the closet after all.

“Still haven’t gotten the free head yet either.” Harry winks.

“We literally had sex this morning.” Louis states, voice flat.

“That doesn’t count.”

“I made you come three times!” Louis exclaims, pushing the reason why he took his time with Harry this morning back down. It was sort of his apology for being a fucked up, lying mess.

Harry shrugs again like it’s nothing, however the faint blush that’s creeping up his neck betrays him. “And?”

Louis clicks his tongue. “Okay, next time use your right hand then, eh?”

Harry smirks, leaning closer until his lips are right at Louis’ ear. An unstoppable shiver runs down Louis’ spine and he swallows around nothing. “I’ll be thinking about you, when I’m touching myself.” Louis gulps at the words. “I’ll be thinking about your mouth around my cock whilst I’m in the shower and I know you’re just in the next room, probably waiting for me.” His hot breath tingles against Louis’ neck, all the blood rushing down in an embarrassingly short time. “And,” Harry continues, voice dropping, “I’ll make sure you hear me when I come.”

“I…uh…” Louis stutters, stunned and hot and, fuck. The image of Harry wanking in the shower is burned in his brain, how his large hand would be wrapped around his cock, tugging at it and his head tilted into his neck, drops of water running down his naked beautiful body and he’d moan Louis name and — fuck, fuck, fuck. Louis blinks rapidly, adjusting himself, trying to be subtle but failing. Harry’s smirk grows sharper.

“Would you like that?” He carries on, “Me wanking to the thought of you?” Harry’s free hand comes to rest on Louis’ upper thigh, stroking up and down. Louis is going to die. He glances around the room quickly, checking if anyone is paying attention to them. They aren’t. He turns his head to Harry, feeling flustered and in need of air and Harry’s hands on his naked, very naked skin.

Harry glances down at Louis’ lap then cuts to his eyes, licking his lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He coaxes softly.

Louis clears his throat, basically squirming on the cushion. He doesn’t know what to do - lean closer to Harry or away. They are kind of in public after all and there are so many eyes around, it’s a major turn on, Louis can’t deny that, but he also thinks they wouldn’t appreciate him getting on his knees right in the middle of the posh living room. So.

What he ends up doing, is taking a large sip of his drink to get saliva back flowing in his dry mouth and wills his cock to stop twitching and filling up. He wishes he and his body were on the same page about boundaries, he wishes Harry would stop torturing him like that. It’s unfair, so unfair on just so many levels. Goddamnit.

Harry’s hand leaves his thigh and Louis pouts in his drink, but it doesn’t last long because there is a shadow hovering over them and when Louis looks up at the interruption, before he can react there is something liquorish slashing right in his face and if that’s not a wake up call and downer, then he doesn’t know what it is. He splutters, wiping his face and blinking in shock up to the girl.

“You’re the one who stole my fedora!” The girl — Mandy — says, empty cup waving the air. Harry chuckles very helpfully from his side and grins at Louis before leaving him on the couch to deal with Mandy, who looks ready to kill — over a bloody hat, no less.

Who let him steal her hat anyway? That’s right, Harry. Harry could have held him back, also Lara was in on the plan. Both of them are bad, bad friends, letting him run into the knife. It’s not his fault, see, he was drunk and the party turned a tad boring at this point, Louis just doesn’t  _ do _ boring and at first it seemed like a brilliant idea. Looking at it now, he wishes he wouldn’t get always in trouble for his ideas and actions. Perhaps, Louis muses, he’s cursed. That would explain a lot of things, to be honest.

“I — well.” Louis bobs his head, he truly is a good liar, but by the love of god, he can’t think of any white lies at this very moment, also, he assumes it would make the situation worse. “Yeah?”

Mandy huffs. Louis smiles toothily.

“Aren’t you going to apologise?” She asks, quirking her thin eyebrows.

He lays his hand over his heart, “I apologise with all my unimportant being that I stole that hat of yours, it won’t ever happen again.” When he’s finished, he gets up. “Mandy, you want some candy to make it better?” He grins cheekily at her, wiggling his fingers.

“I don’t do drugs.” She says. He can tell she’s trying to remain mad, but there is a smile tugging on her red coloured lips and he thinks he’s off of her bad side. Also, she splashed her drink in his face, so they're even, Louis decides.

“I didn’t mean drugs.” He corrects, getting the sweet wrapper out of his pocket and holding it towards her. “It’s actual sweets.” He winks, letting the candy fall into her outstretched palm. “Candy for Mandy.”

She rolls her eyes, unwrapping the sweets anyway, and plopping it in her mouth, chewing. “You can stop now with the puns, I get it.” He wishes he could stop, but Harry isn’t the only one who took over habits from Louis. Apparently Louis does puns now too. “I’m sorry for the drink and…” She makes a gesture to his face and his shirt.

Louis chuckles, “Mate, I don’t think my clothes or face is the issue.” When she frowns he thumbs over his shoulder to the sofa, he shrugs. “Have fun explaining this to the host.”

Mandy’s eyes widen in shock, when she sees the mess she made, the cushions of the sofa are soaked in a light brown. “Oh no!” She exclaims, covering her mouth, glancing between him and the cushions. “Better hide now.” She giggles at him. “Seth’s gonna be so angry.”

He claps her sympathetically on the back, “I better get this shit off me before it dries.” Louis says, leaving her gasping at the ruined once white couch.

Louis makes his way to the bathroom, only to find it locked. He frowns, knocking.

“Bugger off!”

He takes a breath inhale, his skin starting to itch with the liquor glued to it. “No, open the fuck up.” Louis calls inside, “It’s an emergency!” It really is.

“Go upstairs!” The voice calls out, another person giggles and Louis’ fists falls to his side, right. Party. People. Sex. He rolls his eyes heavenward before turning and leaving the living room and searching for the other loo. It’s much quieter when he walks up the stairs, picture frames decorating the walls all the way to the second floor and Louis would love to get a better glimpse at them, but his shirt is clinging to his body like a layer of skin and he smells disgusting.

The hallway is empty and, well, white. There are no more pictures, no mirror or rug leading the way, muffled voices come from behind a door he walks past and he assumes it’s where the stoners are at. Somewhere silent to take a calming drag of the blunt. They sold some weed, it wasn’t the most requested drug, but at least they made a good hundred pounds with it. That isn’t a whole lot, you could make more with drugs, but still. Whatever, not the point — the point is not to get distracted by the smell of warm marijuana and find the damn toilet.

He opens three doors, finding two locked and one with two girls inside…doing things to each other — nothing he wants to be part of, also the angry glares that were sent his way told him he really, really is unwelcome. Anyway.

The next door is the bathroom and it’s empty. Louis releases a relieved sigh, taking in the posh bathtub right under the window and the way little lights are on the ceiling, like stars. They even have a telly, hung proudly next to the mirror. The shower looks pretty rad; it’s like the walls roll in on itself, like the house of a snail.

This house really is distracting and reminds him so much on his own home that he can’t look himself in the eye when he steps in front of the washbasin, opening the tap and splashing cool water in his face. He takes his time to get the stickiness out of his hair and soaks the neckline of his shirt with water, too. It’s cold on his skin and feels like wet socks, but it will have to do the job. The smell of liquor sticks and he guesses he’ll have to walk around smelling like a fucking pub then.

Just when he’s done fussing with his hair, since it’s damp and won’t do what he wants it to do, the door flies open. “I told you guys the top level isn’t for—” Seth snaps his mouth shut when they make eye contact through the mirror. “Oh,” He says dumbly, “Louis?”

“The One and Only.” Louis gives him a close-lipped smile. “Sorry, mate. Downstairs was, y’know, taken.” His smile widens, “I’ll be gone in just a second, promise.” He lifts his pinky in the air with the spoken words.

“Nah, it’s all good. I’m more surprised you’re in my house.” Seth crosses his arms but his face remains friendly, so Louis guesses he can’t be too mad.

Licking his lips, Louis turns, “Listen, We haven’t seen each other before, alright?”

Seth frowns. “What? I’m pretty sure it was you—”

Louis waves a hand around, chuckling unamused. “No, I mean, you didn’t see me there. We just met.” He widens his eyes to get the meaning across without actually having to say the embarrassing words.

It clicks, and Seth’s eyebrows jump to his hairline as he grins cheekily. “Got it.” He seals his lips with an invisible zipper and Louis rolls his eyes. No wonder Harry and Seth are friends.

“Great, I better go and find my better half.” Louis says.

“Thought you don’t have a girl?” Seth says as they walk side by side down the hallway.

“Still don’t have a girl.” He winks.

“Ah!” Seth says knowingly, drawing the sound in the length. “A boy is it then?”

“Sounds like we’re discussing what child I’m awaiting.” Louis chuckles, covering his mouth with his wrist. Seth erupts into sudden laughter. “Harry is just as fascinated by things like a child, and I’m no better. I won’t ever grow up.” He means it probably more seriously than it seems appreciated for the light mood, but Seth doesn’t have to know that and Louis isn’t too keen to think about it now either. Maybe he won’t ever get the chance to be a proper adult anyway. That’s something to discuss between and his mind, though.

“Harry!” Seth says in delight, “That’s great, he’s a catch.”

Louis narrows his eyes, “He is.”

“Don’t give me that look, I don’t think my girl likes to share.”

“Neither do I.”

Seth grins unabashed, shrugging and letting Louis go first down the stairs. “No need to get all defensive now.” He says from behind him.

Louis isn’t defensive. He is not. There is no reason for his heart to clench when he looks into Seth’s blue eyes when they are making their way to the kitchen. It’s just…Seth would be perfect for Harry. He’s a student, comes from a wealthy family and is overall a friendly lad, apparently that kind that buys strangers drinks in pubs who are all by themselves. He is a good human being, unlike Louis, who’s a mess of shattered pieces and lies through his teeth like he gets paid for it.

But then they are in the kitchen and Louis locks eyes with Harry and all the thoughts fly out of his mind when his face lights up like Christmas came early and literally abandons the person he’s talking to and comes to stand next to Louis, throwing an arm over his shoulder and tucking him at his side, like he couldn’t be more proud that someone like Louis is his boyfriend.

Louis' heart flutters uncontrollably.

“Seth!” Harry greets, “I was wondering where you were at!”

“I didn’t feel like joining.” Seth says. “I’m throwing this party alone for Felix’s perks.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s fond, a smile still on his lips. It reminds him so much of Niall, always a little happy bean, that he leans closer to Harry. Because, yeah, Harry could be fully happy with someone who is as easy going as Seth.

“Why is that?” Harry frowns, “Y’alright? Where is Maria?”

Seth sighs. “On vacation, she—” Louis stops listening, letting them make some more chit-chat he has no interest in, letting his fingers wander up Harry’s spine, feeling Harry shiver against him though he keeps the conversation flowing and the smile is branded on his pretty pink lips. Harry’s hand catches his behind his back, holding it against the lower part and Louis stifles his smile on Harry’s shoulder.

He only gets out of his head and back into the chat when Seth replies, “Yeah, my boys had to drag me out of my house the other night,” The blue eyes catch his for a second and Louis holds his breath. “Didn’t end very well.”

“Why?” Harry lets go of his hand, and Louis swallows. Seth promised not to—

“Ah, one of my friends got shitfaced and puked in the cab.” Seth and Harry cringe at that, and Harry makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “Didn’t know you could get  _ that _ plastered on beer, but.” He ends it with a shrug, sending another look Louis' way and he wishes Seth would stop before Harry catches on.

Louis detaches himself from him, rubbing his neck awkwardly, “I’ll go for a smoke.”

Harry frowns at him, “I’ll come with you.”

“Nah, you guys catch up, I’ll get some air in my lungs.” He pecks Harry’s lips and smiles tightly at Seth before going back outside.

This time, there are some others on the terrace slash balcony as well, smoking and drinking from red cups. They look up when he steps outside and Louis smiles at them shortly before leaning against the railing. Louis doesn’t want to think about the night out. He has never been so scared out of his mind, he has never suffered from a bad reaction. Coke was always something safe to use for him, something that helped him - not dragged him down into the pits of personal hell. At least whilst he was on it, the afterglow always had some side effects, of course, but never whilst he was being high. He doesn’t know what got him all paranoid, is the thing. He only remembers leaving the pub with a weird gut feeling that started to grow the more he walked down the street and then he crashed into the bike-rider who—

Louis swallows, shaking his head to get rid of Hawk’s face staring at him. He knows it wasn’t real, it didn’t happen, he basically was about to beat up some innocent man in the middle of the street. He gets a fresh cigarette out of the pack, setting the end of the stick aflame and sucking at the butt. The smoke fills his lungs and nicotine lets him relax more in the cold blackness surrounding him. The chatter from the others blur out until he only can hear his steady heartbeat.

He still needs to talk to Harry, he can’t go on like that. How long will it take for Harry to go on a trip to Manchester and for Louis to lose control? A day tops. Tuesday, probably at last. Louis has no idea how to bring it up, it’s not like he lied about a little thing, this is huge. He stole, he went out without Harry’s knowledge though he knew it’d be dangerous, got into trouble and is currently hiding bruises from his boyfriend. How do you start a conversation that will surely erupt into a fight that could end so badly, Harry would make the decision to leave him?

Louis doesn’t want Harry to leave, he wants to keep Harry forever and that’s just utterly selfish, innit?

He has to say something before it’s too late and someone else does it for him. Like Seth, like Lara, hell with Louis’ luck he’ll run into the bike-rider when he’s with Harry and that guy won’t let him get away, he bets.

This town is too small for secrets. He wonders how Harry still is a free man and not in jail, since so many people know he deals. One of them could talk to the police and considering that Harry has a grand’s worth of drugs stocked up under his bed, he couldn’t lie his way out of it.

Louis trusts Harry to know what he’s doing, however it’s all a bit concerning still when random people come up to Harry just asking him for drugs like it’s common knowledge that Harry is a dealer without a doubt and they won’t just expose themselves to the wrong dude.

Maybe junkies really are that kind of desperate; perhaps they don’t care much about safety.

The proof is right there, when a bloke comes up to Louis, taps him on the shoulder with a loose grin and asks for some pills like he’d ask for the time or a gum or a cigarette. Normal. Easy.

Louis likes normal and easy. He likes it best with Harry, though.

It still sits wrong with him when he gives out two little pills and pockets the money under the watchful eyes from the other people. It all feels a bit like being put in the spotlight, and somehow Louis never noticed before. He swallows, nervous for no reason.

“A cigarette can only last so long.” Harry sighs, closing the door behind him.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” Louis says, holding out the pack for Harry to take one out, he looks at the others, who turn their heads quickly.

“Were you?” Harry quirks an eyebrow, accepting the cig nonetheless and bowing his head to shield the flame Louis offers from the faint breeze. Drawing the smoke into his lungs with a sucking sound through his teeth, he steps closer, blocking the view for the others with his back. Louis is relieved to get all the eyes off him.

The anxiety falters and subsides completely when Harry smiles at him.

He doesn’t know why his heart started acting up in the first place. It’s a party, they all probably are doing drugs anyway, they have no room to judge and gossip.

Remembering Harry asked him a question, he tilts his head up, returning the smile and taking the cigarette from Harry’s fingers. He brings it to his own lips, catching it between his teeth.

Harry’s eyes flitter over his face, and he licks his lips when Louis takes a long drag, maintaining eye contact. He knows too bloody well that Harry is into that, that he thinks it’s hot when Louis smokes.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I sold some pills.” Louis says finally, exhaling as he guides the fag to Harry and watches Harry take a shot. Yeah, it is hot. God.

“Sold Seth dust.” Harry informs him, then he frowns, taking the cig completely from Louis and waving it around.

“Lara has to stop calling it dust.” Louis rolls his eyes. “We can’t use all the slangs, it makes us look stupid and childish.”

“Dust, hm.” Harry smirks.

Louis remembers. “Star dust.”

Harry licks his lips.

“Did you sell everything yet?”

“Does it matter?”

“So, you haven’t sold everything yet.” Louis pouts.

“We could break the rules.” Harry suggests, “I mean, it’s your rule. We can break our own rules.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Since when do you care for rules, Lou?”

Louis stiffens, he doesn’t, of course. How many times did he break the most important rules only this week? Every bloody day, probably. He huffs. Harry sees that as invite to step even closer, kissing his bad cheek. “C’mon.” He murmurs, fingers dancing over Louis’ waist. “This party is getting boring.”

It truly is.

“Let’s make it more fun.”

“Alright.” Louis gives in, though it really wasn’t something big to ponder over in the first place. Harry and he in the bathroom — a posh, shiny bathroom at that? Hell, yes. Louis is all for that idea, of course. “Let’s go back inside, then.”

“Lemme finish Renée first.” Harry pouts.

“Renée?” He deadpans.  

Harry waves the gleaming stick around like it’s obvious.

Maybe it should be, considering it’s Harry.

“Hm, alright.” Louis murmurs, hugging Harry around the middle and burying his nose in the crook of Harry’s neck. He inhales deeply the cologne and the smoke and sweat that’s a warm smell strong on the pulse point and let’s his lids close for a second. Harry sucks on the cigarette over Louis' shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Louis' waist, hand slipping into Louis' back pocket. “Tick, tock, tick, tock.” Louis croons, Harry’s chest vibrates with a low chuckle. He hears Harry exhale, feels his Adam’s apple bob.

There are giggles coming from the group that Louis forgot about and when he peeks at them, they all turn their heads away a second time. Louis normally loves being the centre of attention, but these people are getting on his nerves.

“Harry!”

Speaking of people that get on his nerves…

Niall sticks his head through the gap of the door, smirking when he catches Louis’ eye. “Am I interrupting some cozy couple time?” He asks, crossing his arms and lifting his brows. “You’re so cute.” He coos, coming to hug both of them, his head between Harry’s shoulder blades and hands gripping into the fabric of Louis’ shirt.

So much for blowjobs in the bathroom, Louis sighs inwardly.

“What do you want Niall?” Harry asks, throwing the butt of the cig over the railing.

“Did you ruin it already with Amy?” Louis grins, “That’s too bad, I already googled wedding locations in Ireland.”

“Did you?” Niall asks, hands holding onto Louis’ tighter.

“He did not.” Harry grins, still standing sandwiched between Niall and Louis.

“What are you talking about Haz? I already started a scrapbook with brilliant ideas.” Louis scoffs, pinching Harry’s waist.

“Did you?” Niall asks again, excitement clear in his voice.

“I always carry a scrapbook around, Neil, keep up.”

Harry laughs and Louis rolls his eyes, stepping out of the awkward group hug and rubbing his knuckle in his closed lid. He’s getting tired.

“Were you just coming out here to annoy us or…” Harry asks, shaking Niall off him, “because we had some things planned and I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna be part of that.”

Niall makes a face, probably recalling the last time he walked in on him and Harry in the bedroom. Then, he frowns. “No, I don’t wanna be part of your…” He makes a gesture with his fingers, sticking his index through the ring he built with his other hand. Louis groans, the bunch of people outside that  _ just had to  _ listen in giggle again and he sends them an annoyed glare.

Harry laughs, because he’s just as immature as Niall and Louis is done with both of them.

“Don’t knock it till’ you’ve tried it, Nialler.” Harry claps him on the shoulder.

“Is that an offer for a threesome with you guys?” Niall waggles his eyebrows.

“What do you want?” Louis finally gets this conversation that takes an unpleasant turn to an end. “I don’t want your cock anywhere near me, so please don’t say you came outside to ask to join.”

“I would like to join!” Some girl of the group asks, giggling. “You guys are hot.”

“Alright, I’m going inside.” Louis announces, “And you’re coming with me, I don’t trust this girl.” He says in a hushed voice directed at Harry who smirks.

“She seems lovely.” He says, because obviously Harry would say something like that. “Maybe a bit desperate, but…”

“Enough.” Louis grunts, Niall laughs at Louis’ misery. “I’m not sharing. Ever.” He sends a glare at the girl then at Niall, who pouts.

Back inside, a safe distance from the girl that still peers at them through the glass door, they sober from their laughter and Niall informs Harry about the reason why he went looking for him in the first place. Of course it’s some guy who wants to buy from Harry and of course Harry says yes to that, since that’s the only reason they are here at this, now very boring party.

So whilst Harry finds the guy who’s looking for him, Louis ambles over to the couch that is now covered with a blanket to hide the dark spots of liquor. Louis plops down with a groan, stretching his legs out front and closing his eyes. He is exhausted, the music too loud, and the chatter of the people an annoying background noise that rings in his eardrums.

Louis is too sober, too tired and too down on earth, too close to reality to find anything worth looking at and the music is shit anyway. He craves a drink just so he can bear it a bit easier or another cigarette, though he doesn’t want to step out on the balcony another time.

Niall had rushed off to Amanda, and both of them disappeared. Lara isn’t present to entertain him and he can’t spot Liam anymore, maybe he went home or summat. Who knows. Seriously.  

Louis is strongly considering joining the stoners upstairs when a weight plops down on his lap and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know who it is. Lips press against his and he hums, when fingers play with his fringe.

“Niall, finally. You're straight forward aren't you?” He smirks when there is an outrage squeak and Harry tugs on the strands more forceful.

“Not funny.” He growls.

“No?” Louis raises his eyebrows though his eyes are still shut. “I thought it was  _ hilarious _ .”

He basically can hear the roll of Harry's pretty eyes.

“Should I be concerned that my best mate is gonna snatch my boyfriend?” Harry murmurs. “I mean, maybe it was a hint earlier.”

“You're an idiot.” Louis blinks, wrapping his arms around Harry.

Harry smiles slowly at him. “I got a joke.”

“Go on.”

“Can a kangaroo jump higher than the Empire State Building?”

Louis lifts his eyebrows in question.

“Yes, because the Empire State Building can't jump!”

They chuckle quietly, Louis kisses Harry's cheek. “Hey Harry, a blind man walks into a bar...and a chair and a wall.”

Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, hot air tickling Louis' skin as Harry exhales.

“Excuse me.”

Louis looks up to guy with long greasy hair and glasses. “Yeah?”

“I, well,” he clears his throat, scratching his throat awkwardly and directing his gaze to the floor. Louis widens his eyes a tad in annoyance. Can't he just like, get out whatever he wants to say? It can't be that hard, can it? “Well.” He says again.

Harry giggles in the crook of Louis' neck, mouthing ‘ _ Well _ ’ mockingly against his skin, Louis presses his lips together to suppress his own giggle.

The guy’s eyes flicker to Harry then Louis and he clears his bloody throat again.

“Heard you...uh…” tick, tock, tick, “sell things.” He finishes at last. Poor lad. Louis almost pities him.

Almost.

“Yeah, we do.” Louis bates his lashes innocently. “You can find our eBay account linked to our Facebook.” He deadpans. “Pink dildos all sizes, our personal favourite is  _ Dildo Samantha _ , it's massive,” Harry chokes on nothing at that, giggle-coughing in his neck, it encourages Louis to go on, “condoms in basically all colours and flavours, mate, it's your lucky night. You came to the right people.”

Harry erupts into a honk of laughter and the guy turns tomato red. Louis grins toothily.

“Uh that's a nice offer…” the guy gulps, probably regretting interrupting them, now. Good. “But, like I wanted some pills?”

“Ever tried the drug store? Seen a doctor about that?”

The bloke stutters some more around and Harry breaks, fucker.

“He's just messing with you.” He says, sitting more upright and facing the dude.

“Oh!” Relief colours his face, “Well, I wanted-”

“Molly? Ecstasy?” Harry drawls, nodding to each word, “we got it mate, what is it?”

The bloke murmurs his answer and Louis sighs,  _ first time buyer, seriously _ .

“Great, go wait in the bathroom.”

“W-what?”

“No eyes around to see?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah okay.” Then the guy stumbles away, closing the door behind him.

“ _ You go! _ ” They both say in union, snipping their fingers at each other.

“Harry!” Louis pouts.

“C’mon, I'm tired.” Harry gives Louis his best puppy eyes.

“He's so weird.”

“You can handle him.”

“Babe, I’ll hand him a peanut and tell him to sniff it up his nose and he would fucking do it.” He pats Harry's waist. “Your customer.”

“Then let's settle this like adults,” Harry bobs his head. “Rock, paper, scissor?” He tries, batting his lashes prettily.

Louis purses his lips but shrugs eventually. “Alright.”

Or not.

Louis lost three rounds of the bloody game. He's pretty sure Harry cheated even if it's not possible, he did. Louis  _ knows _ .

“Why so grumpy, baby?” Harry asks, sliding off Louis' lap. He grins cheekily.

Louis huffs, gets up and fumbles with his hair. He hears Harry's delighted laughter all the way to the loo, Harry lets out a whistle cat calling him.

Shaking his head he gives Harry the bird, “Go to hell, Harry!” He calls over the loud music.

“Only if you join me!”

Louis hides his smile in his neckline.

The deal is over in three blinks of an eye, the guy basically shaking in his socks because — it's  _ ah _ , so illegal and he's  _ ah _ , such a little rebel, probably gonna tell all his nerd friends about it back in uni. Louis suppressed three annoyed huffs throughout the whole thing, whilst the guy said thanks at least a hundred times and never quite brought himself to look at Louis directly.

If Louis wasn't be so exhausted he actually would feel bad about the whole thing, there is a first time for everything and the bloke might be a tad awkward but overall he looks like an alright guy.

Anyway, when the bloke leaves, Louis has a wee, washes his hands and freshens up his matted hair. Maybe Harry sent the guy in here so he could join Louis after the deal is over. As he waits on and Harry doesn't show up for an exchange of blowies, he pouts at himself in the mirror.

Back in the living room, Harry is still sat where Louis left him talking to a bloke Louis recalls from the pub night.

Why, why, why in God’s name does this keep happening? It’s like a big fat blinking sign held in Louis’ face, always a reminder of his little slip, his little mistake. Louis seriously considers making a beeline to the kitchen, getting a drink or looking for someone to save him, but then Harry catches Louis’ eye and pats his thighs as invitation and, well.

Louis ambles to the sofa, hoping the guy really was pissed out of his mind so he won’t remember him. He plops down in Harry’s lap, draping his arm around his neck as he starts playing with the soft curls in his nape. Harry leans into the touch, not breaking the conversation he’s holding with Tom — Thomas? Tobias?

He watches some people leave, the room empties out slowly and then the only ones that are left, are Felix — whom Louis trying to avoid looking at — Seth, two girls Louis doesn’t know, who are standing with Mandy and some bloke, Mr Stutter and Awkward is nowhere to be seen and the DJ starts playing some slow songs, the music now quieter so everyone can get a tad more cozy.

To his surprise Niall shows up, Amanda by his side and Louis doesn’t ask questions where the guitar is from that’s slung around Niall’s shoulder, when the blonde sunshine sits down on the armchair and starts jamming to the music.

Louis watches Seth do a line on the dining table, watches as Felix takes the tenner from him and observes with an itching feeling in his throat as they shake their heads, pulling faces before grins form on their lips. Louis gulps, quickly concentrating back on Harry and the way his voice sounds like honey and is such a deep contrast to the voice that is singing the verses of the song.

Seth laughs, shoving at Felix’s chest. Thomas stops mid-sentence, and Louis only notices because they changed the topic from the best pubs in Manchester to sports and Louis actually was curious about the opinion Tom has about the last Manchester United game.  

Thomas clears his throat awkwardly. “Excuse me.” He gets up, smiling at the both of them. “I just— gotta. Talk.” He thumbs over his shoulder, “Be right back.”

Louis watches as Thomas approaches Seth and then he looks down at Harry, who blinks up to him with heavy lidded eyes. “Are you ready to go home?” Louis asks, “We could watch some movie and eat leftovers from lunch?”

Harry stifles his yawn on Louis’ neck and he chooses to take that as agreement to his plan. What time is it anyway?

The plan to leave gets interrupted by an angry scream, then Thomas stumbles back landing on the floor and a surprised yelp. Niall stops playing the guitar, Harry and Louis share a confused look as Seth towers over Thomas, threatening.

“What did you just say?” He sneers, nothing left from the friendly guy Louis met before. Now, he looks ready to fucking kill. Cheeks ruby red and eyes flashing dangerously. “Say it again, you fucker!”

“C’mon, Seth, please I didn’t—”

“Don’t say, you didn’t mean it. You sure did.” Seth barks, shaking Felix off who tries to bring safe distance between his brother and Seth’s friend.

Thomas open his mouth just to close it again. Then, he inhales deeply, “I am not sorry.”

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Seth’s fist collapses into Thomas’ nose, an awful, hair-rising cracking sound echoes through the room before anyone can even react.

“Holy shit.” Louis mutters, perplexed. 

“He’s…on  _ coke _ , Louis.” Harry whispers, patting Louis’ waist. “Lemme get up.” 

“What?” Louis frowns, slipping off Harry’s lap anyway and blinking when Harry gets up from the sofa.

Harry doesn’t answer.

Seth draws his arm back to attack again, but Harry is quicker, twisting his arm behind his back so he can’t beat the shit outta his friend. Seth grunts displeased, trying to elbow Harry in the guts. 

Louis holds his breath.

“Seth, it’s enough.” Harry says, voice firm and cold. “C’mon let’s get you some water and have a lay down, eh?” 

“Fuck off H.” Seth hisses, shaking Harry off with a new won strength, he’s got Thomas now in a strangled grip. 

Thomas chokes, face turning a red colour and Louis is on his feet a second later. “Seth, Seth, please—” Thomas presses through his barely open lips, with a thin voice. Louis gulps.

“You think you can offend me in my house, at my party?” Seth grunts, shaking the poor lads neck.

“I didn’t—” Thomas squeak is cut of as his head bangs against the floor. 

Harry and Louis share a look, Harry gives a tiny nod.

Louis inhales deeply, “Hey  _ dickhead _ !” He calls out, surprising everyone in the room. Seth glances at him with a sneer, eyes clouded and pupils blown out. “What’s up? You wanna fight? Try me.” Louis doesn’t want to fight. Louis can’t fight. He can’t fight someone who is full of angry energy and high as a skyscraper. He sure hopes Harry gets his plan and has his back. “C’mon, then.” Louis raises his chin in challenge. 

“Fuck off, Louis.” Seth grunts and turns back to Thomas. Great. “This is between me and my  _ friend _ .” His knee digs in Thomas stomach. “ _ Friend _ .” He snarls, then snorts in disgust.

“I am.” Thomas grunts, “Seth—”

“You hug all your friends like that?” Louis snorts, still trying to get him to stop strangling Thomas. “Because, you know, I want a hug too. Looks fun. Cozy.” 

People erupt into laughter, a shiver runs down Seth’s back. He glares at Louis. 

Louis’ eyes flicker to Harry, who makes a swirling hand gesture to signal him to go on. 

This is it. 

Louis lunges forward, surprising Seth as he collapses with his body, both of them fall to the side, Louis on top, holding Seth down by the shoulders. Seth, however, is stronger, reacting way faster than Louis hoped he could manage and they roll over the floor, tearing at each other clothes. A faint pain explodes in Louis’ bad rib and he grits his teeth together as he tries to win the upper hand. 

Adrenaline pumps in his veins, helping him to slip out under Seth’s arm and he knees him in the guts, Seth lets out a yelp. His fists are in Louis’ hair and for a moment Louis can’t breathe as Seth is a dead weight on his chest. Someone tries to get between, Louis thinks it’s Harry but he can’t look, to catch up in the fact that fingers dig into his throat and cut off all desperately needed air. 

Seth might be screaming, Louis can’t be sure. Something crashes right next to Louis' head on the floor, splinters of glass miss his eyes, only because he closed them instinctively. Whoever is throwing shit at them, Louis would like them to stop, he’s trying not to die of strangulation. 

Then, the weight is gone off his chest and his airways are free and he gulps down as much oxygen as he can get. He blinks at the ceiling, everything is swimming in front of his eyes. 

There is another scream, another crash, a body falls next to him on the floor. 

When his vision clears, he heaves himself on his elbow, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the ringing. 

Maybe he got brained because when he looks to the side, Harry is on top of Seth, holding him in place, a flick knife held to Seth’s throat. Seth winces pathetically, Harry mutters something under his breath and Louis thinks he, himself isn’t breathing at all. 

The others stand useless around, apparently too shocked out of their tired minds to do more than stare. 

“Harry.” Louis croaks, getting on his knees and crawling over to them. “Harry.” He tries again, reaching out and taking the knife out of Harry’s grip without much of a struggle. 

“Please…” Seth whimpers. 

A chair comes flying their way, crashing against the wall. 

Harry lets up from Seth, sitting back on his calves and running a tired hand over his face. 

“Let’s go Louis.” He says, not looking his way. “I’m done with  _ all _ of them.” Harry gets to his feet, helping Louis up, then Seth. “Felix, take care of your arsehole of a brother.” He says, stormy eyes fixed on Seth. “Get him some water.” 

There is shuffling around them and Felix lays his hands on Seth’s shoulders. 

“This isn’t my fault.” Seth says, voice shaking. 

“No, it’s not.” Harry sighs, smiling sadly, fight leaving his body and defeat settling in its place. Louis knows what’s going on, has it seen happening before to Harry and he can’t help but think back to Luke and how destroyed Harry was about the assault. His fingers itch to reach out and comfort.

“He is in love with my girlfriend!” Seth says, voice tight.

Louis closes his eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of his nose in bland annoyance. Love is literally the most complicated thing on this earth and Louis would like to go home now. This isn’t something he wants to be part of anymore and looking at Harry, a usually collected and kind human being, they both share the same desire to crawl into bed and never leave their room ever again. This night went on forever and Louis is of a loss of words to reply any sort of comforting words. 

“That’s why you’re lashing out at your friends?” Harry asks flatly. “Seriously?” 

Seth sets his jaw, a muscle twitches as the anger comes back. He shakes Felix’s hands off him and steps closer to Harry, jabbing a finger in his chest. Louis takes a step forward, out of the corner of his eye he can see Niall doing the same. 

“You’re at my party, Harry, remember your place.” 

“My place?” Harry lifts his eyebrows, taunting. “What would that be then, eh?” He flicks his hand at Seth’s finger.  

“You almost stabbed me.” Seth grits through his teeth, lips a turned down snarl. “You attacked me and you—” Louis eyes widen when Seth looks at him. “You attacked me too! You two planned this.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, snorting. “You’re being paranoid, mate. You were throwing punches at us.” 

“You knew!” Seth suddenly exclaims, “Yes, yes, you knew! You were there, you knew!” 

Shit, shit, shit. 

“Enough!” A voice shouts. Louis releases a great sigh of relief as Niall steps towards them. “You,” He points at Seth then Felix, “You go upstairs, I’ll bring some weed to get this fucking tension outta you lot, and you.” He swirls his finger to Louis and Harry, “You guys leave before—”

Niall is cut off by the door bell that’s followed by a harsh knock. 

All the air leaves the room. 

No one is moving, breathing or saying anything. 

Then — 

“ _ Police, open the door! _ ” 

Harry and Louis look at each other wide eyed. They still have enough pills left that could send them to jail for at least three months. Louis isn’t sure, he doesn’t study law, never cared for since — 

But now. Fuck. 

“Open the door!” The bell rings again.

Louis glances around, his eyes land on some random girl, he waves her over, she bites her lip nervously. 

“Go.” He mouths.

She shakes her head. 

“Go.” He whisper-shouts. “Someone has to open the door, you aren’t high are you?” 

The door bell sends a shiver down Louis’ spine, Harry takes his hand, tugging. “Louis, c’mon, we gotta go.” 

Niall shoves at his shoulders, he stumbles a couple of steps. 

“Go, go, go!” Niall rushes them, shoving again.

Seth, however, has other plans, since he turned out to be a fucking dick. He holds Louis back by the collar. “You’re not leaving!” He all but screams. “You planned this! You planned this!” 

And that’s the moment where chaos breaks through, since every bloody person here is high and probably only realised now what meaning it beholds. An uproar of scared chatter erupts out of thin air, everyone trying to find a safe way out of the house without running into the police and getting caught with drugs in their system. A girl shoulders past him, two other girls in tow.

Harry yanks at his arm, Niall tries to get Seth off him and Louis…Louis is frozen, heart beating out of control as his vision blurs, his body tears in three different directions. Harry throws a punch at someone that gets into this mess and Seth stumbles, taking Louis with him to the ground. They are a tangle of limbs and Louis has no idea how to move from the spot, has no idea what to do when Seth digs the sharp point of his elbow in his throat. Louis coughs violently at the contact, can’t see anything but tears that spring free from the pain. 

There is more noise, more crashes, more of everything really. 

They will all end up in jail, his parents will find out. Or, maybe he will die right here, on the floor of a posh house by another addict. 

This is how it would end for Louis in the long run anyway. 

The weight presses down, down, down, Louis can’t breath, his minds draws a blank and— 

He inhales air, his lungs lift and then he’s standing upright leaning against someone. He bends, coughing, tearing at his collar to get rid of the pain, blinking against the tears, the white dots. It feels like something is stuck in his throat. 

“Lou, baby, c’mon. C’mon!” Harry rambles, gripping him tighter around the middle, dragging him forward like some doll until they reached the backdoor and breathe in cool air. Louis lets out a whimper, rubbing his sore neck and glimpsing down. 

“We can’t jump, I can’t jump, Harry.” He says with a hoarse voice, he winces at the pain that scratches the walls of his throat. 

“Thank god there are stairs.” Harry says too cheeky for the situation but it helps. Louis chokes on his own laugh as Harry guides him down. There are hands on his sides, hands on his shoulders, hands are there to catch him when he stumbles down. Hands that keep him upright when he’s standing on the grass surrounded by blown out blackness. 

Louis blinks, it’s not only Harry that’s there, it’s also Niall and Amanda and he breathes a tad easier now that he knows his friend made it out of the house just as well. The three of them are too slow, however, they are slow to find a way out of the garden and there are more footsteps on the stairs. Louis doesn’t think it belongs to one of the other panicked party people, the firm slaps of the soles too harsh. 

It’s the police. 

Harry takes his hand, tugging him under the staircase, ducking down and cowering in the corner, Niall and Amanda close behind. All of them huddle together. 

Niall lifts his index to his lips to signal for them to be quiet and if it wasn’t be for the tension in Louis’ muscles, he’d fucking snort, because obviously they’re gonna stay mute. 

Harry kisses Louis’ temple and Louis takes his hand between his, squeezing, seeing Niall doing the same with Amanda as they all hold the air trapped in their lungs. 

“Anybody out here? Show yourself!” 

Harry and Louis share a look, Harry rolls his eyes at the words and Louis grits his teeth together not to break out in hysterical laughter. However, the amusement doesn’t last long, because the steps are close now and one look under the stairs and they’d be seen. 

“George!” Another voice calls and the steps come to a halt. “We found something!” 

Each of them releases a tiny sigh of relief as the man walks back up to the house and only when they hear the click of the door shutting, they dare to move. 

Amanda is the first one to crawl out of their hiding place, peeking to each side before waving a quick hand at them. Niall is second to slip out, followed by Harry and then Louis.

“We part.” Louis decides, “We got the drugs, you don’t, if they find us together they’ll arrest you too.” 

Niall opens his mouth to protest but Amanda, probably not too keen to get send to jail, nods along, also, they don’t know each other, obviously she doesn’t want to hand out her future to safe two blokes she doesn’t know. At least Niall gives in when she looks at him pleading and Louis sighs. 

That cleared, Harry and Louis go to climb over the gate at the far end of the backyard whilst Amanda and Niall find a way to slip through the gate’s door out front. 

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, hands on hips and head tilt up. “Why is it so bloody high?” 

Louis snorts, coughing afterwards. “You’re the one to talk.” 

“Midget.” Harry grins and Louis narrows his eyes at him.  

“Not the time or the place Harry.” 

“You started it.” 

“You go first.” Louis nods towards the garden fence, playing with his bottom lip worriedly. It really is unusually high for a simple fence. 

Harry huffs but then there are voices to be heard and he hurries, angling himself up and throwing a leg over the fence. “Gimme your hand.” He bends down, balancing his front on the small space. His whole body shakes to keep himself in place. 

“I don’t think—” 

“Just take my bloody hand, Louis.” Harry grunts. 

Louis takes his hand, Harry pulls him up, he slips and loses his hold, falling sideways onto the ground. “Are you okay?” Louis calls quietly, as Harry stays on his back, blinking up at the sky. 

“Get over here.” Harry groans out, slowly sitting up and shaking his head. “Fuck.” He coughs. “That hurt.” 

Louis jumps, getting hold on top and propping his feet on the lattice walking slowly up until he can angle himself over the top. Much more graceful than he’d ever hoped, he lets himself plop down, brushing off the dust and holding a hand out to pull Harry up. 

“We won’t talk about this.” Harry says in warning as Louis smirks at him. “Ever.” 

They jog down a path that leads hopefully back to town, since all Louis can see is field and only because his eyes adjusted themselves in the darkness. 

“Gimme the rest of your pills.” Harry says as they are in a good distance to the house. “I’ll throw them away, in case they making a search party out of it and catch us.” 

Louis licks over his front teeth. “You sure?” 

“Lou.” 

“Alright, alright, you’re the boss.” He hands him the few packets of colourful pills and the other packet filled with simple white ones. 

Harry throws them. They are gone and both of them stare after something they can’t even see. 

“I’m the boss, huh?” Harry teases as they start walking again. Louis bumps his hand against Harry’s, grinning when they make eye contact. 

“Tonight.” He agrees. 

Harry’s tongue darts over his lips, they shine in the soft moonlight. “Is that so…” He drawls, coming to a stop, Louis stills too, tilting up his head to get a better view of Harry’s face. 

It looks pale in the low lighting but beautiful nonetheless. Green eyes sparkle mischievously as Harry’s finger wander over the waistline of Louis’ trousers. He licks his lips again and Louis really likes where this is headed. 

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks and Louis doesn’t understand what he is referring to until his index caresses his throat, eyes worried. 

Louis swallows, shrugs and dips his chin down to catch Harry’s finger between his teeth, he bites softly. Releasing it, he steps into Harry’s space, breathing in the warmth. “No.” He says, not even caring if it’s true or not. Getting strangled twice in under twenty minutes is not something he desires to experience after tonight. Louis also doesn’t want to talk about it if they could be doing other things. 

Harry kisses the top of his head, Louis sighs. 

They stay in the hug until Harry’s fingers get restless once more and wander their way down Louis’ spine, a shiver following the tips like it wants to catch up and Louis shudders and not from the wind that picked up. 

“I don’t know if that was the most interesting party I was ever invited to or the most terrifying.” Harry murmurs, fingers slipping under the hem of Louis' shirt, trailing over the soft skin until they reach his navel. Louis’ stomach muscles clench and unclench.

“Let’s make it unforgettable, then.” Louis says, smirking. 

Harry glances around before sinking down on his knees unzipping Louis’ pants. He looks up, tongue darts out at the same time he takes Louis in his large hand.

“Let’s make it unforgettable.” Harry agrees and Louis lets out a whimper when Harry’s lips stretch around the head. 

Louis buries his hand in Harry's curls, tugging softly. 

They make eye contact and Louis thinks the way Harry looks at this very moment will be branded onto his soul until the day he dies. 

 

***    *    ***

  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday! :) x

 

***    *    ***

 

 

Harry is sat at the breakfast island. He doesn’t notice Louis, since his nose is surprisingly buried in the newspaper as he scratches the pen behind his ear, and deep lines furrow on his forehead. He hums quietly, turning the page.

Louis' lips twitch and he itches his bare toes on his shin, leaning against the doorframe with one shoulder as he stares at the back of Harry’s head. He’s uncertain if he should interrupt or just go out for a smoke. He’s never seen Harry this deep into news in general. Maybe it’s about the latest Manchester game, but that’d be bullshit - he talked to Thomas about it at the party last night which means he’s up to date on the subject.

Harry doesn’t look up when Louis shuffles to the worktop, switching the kettle on and hopping onto the counter. He pouts when Harry still isn’t paying him any kind of attention. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Louis covers his mouth to stifle his yawn, eyes forming crinkled half-moons.

It’s sometime around noon. Louis just woke up from the dead and he wasn’t really pleased to find the mattress next to him empty, for one, he thought Harry fucked off to Manchester again. Plus he’d like to have a cuddle. It’s bloody Sunday after all which, meant they’d stay in bed as long as they could manage and only drag themselves into the kitchen just before they died of starvation. Sunday is their kind of let’s-smoke-and-have-sex-and-take-naps day. Louis adores Sundays. Nothing to do, nowhere to be at — if it’s not for a spontaneous business call or Niall coming over unannounced.

Since Harry is in the kitchen and not delivering pot and Niall is nowhere to be seen, both interruptions aren’t the case and Louis would love to share some bedtime with Harry upstairs. However, his wishes are second rank, when Harry hasn’t even noticed him yet — he always does. It’s a bit creepy how they just know, like they can smell each other or something. They are two magnets, pulling towards each other wherever they are.

Louis sighs when the water is hot and ready and angles his upper body around to get a mug out of the high-up cabinet. He could just jump down and it wouldn’t hurt as much his ribs, but — he is tired and lazy. The pain is just a bit of a wake up call.

He dumps his tea bag into the mug, pours water over it and swings his legs freely, while blowing over his hot, steamy tea. The silence presses on his ears and he’s scared they will pop, like they always do when a plane sets foot on the ground again - it’s that feeling exactly.

“Harry.” He tries, and Harry hums. That’s a start. “What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

Louis narrows his eyes, seeing the smug smile on Harry’s lips.

“What are you reading?”

“The news.”

Louis sighs, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Don’t be smart with me.”

“I’m surprised it took you so long to start talking.” Harry says, looking up briefly before directing his attention back to the newspaper.

“Ha, ha.” Louis slides onto the floor, shuffling over and leaning his forearms on the breakfast bar, trying to sneak a peek at the page Harry is just so fascinated with. “What is so interesting then, hm?”

“Is that your phone?” Harry asks, blinking at him.

“What are you talking—” Louis stops himself, frowning. “How the hell did you hear that?” He asks, sending Harry a funny look and jogging up the stairs. He’d think Harry is messing with him if it weren’t for the blaring tone that’s not coming from the bedroom, but the laundry room in the hallway. He makes a turn, jumping down the last two steps, ignoring the pain that zips through his body and gets his phone out just in time to accept the call.

He really wishes he didn’t. He wishes it’d be a normal Sunday and they would have stayed in bed, cuddling and being lazy. Louis wishes he wasn’t so used to Lara calling him that he never even bothers to check the caller ID anymore.

“Louis.” A clipped, female voice says, and even with all the distance between them she still has the power to make his heart flutter in his chest.

Stunned, he blinks rapidly. “Hello?” He asks, dumbly, since it cannot be the woman he thinks is on the other line. That just seems wonky and surreal and, yeah. It’s probably his mind playing tricks on him.

“Hello darling.”

Or not so much. He swallows. “Mum?” He glances over his shoulder, checking if he’s alone, which he is. He strides through the living room, needing much, much more air for this conversation. And, maybe nicotine would do him good too, he thinks, fetching the pack from the coffee table on the way and then closing the back door behind him.

It’s warm outside, but he still shivers.

“I haven’t heard from you at all since you left.” She starts, “Now, Charlotte tells me you haven’t been home in weeks? Where are you?”

Louis takes his time to light the cigarette. It’s a good distraction from the way his heart is beating out of control and a shudder of betrayal wracks his frame.

“I’m at a friend’s place.” He eventually says, slowly. The word ‘friend’ sits wrong with him.

Silence.

“For weeks?” Jay says, deadpan. “Honey, you know—”

“Don’t overstay your welcome.” Louis repeats automatically. It’s something his mother preached to him and his sister the moment they made friends in kindergarten. Louis thinks it’s utter bullshit. “Why are you calling?”

Jay sighs, “I am your mother, do I need a reason to call my son?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, if that’s so Louis, go home to Lottie’s. I’ll be in Macclesfield in the next two weeks for a visit.” 

“Is dad coming?” He asks. 

“Mark.” She corrects and he frowns, confused. “He isn’t coming, no.” Before he can ask questions about what the hell is going on, she continues, “I want you to return to London, I don’t want you to stay at someone’s place I don’t know. This wasn’t the deal we had.” 

“I’m not coming to London.” Louis fumes, sucking on his fag. “I’m staying in Macclesfield.” The statement is so surprisingly strong that it stuns both of them. Louis doesn’t regret it. It’s true, he wants to stay as long as Harry wants him to. 

“Don’t be stupid, Louis, you’re not staying in this town.” She chuckles, probably caught off guard by the turn of events. “You can’t live with your friend and you’re not with Lottie. I don’t like that, so I’ll come and get you, yes?” There is a pause, then she adds with a sugary voice, “You don’t have to take the train this time.” Like that would change Louis' mind, because the train ride is just so unbearable for him. 

However, if she would’ve called him a month ago, he’d have jumped in the air at the offer. London is after all his favourite city. His home. 

Now his home is sitting inside reading the newspaper and Louis is yearning to go and reenter the house, to see if maybe he can get Harry to pay attention. There can’t be that much written in the news, right? Probably not. 

Louis rolls his eyes, exhaling out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t bother, mother.” He says, tiredly. 

“University starts soon. I talked to the director, and he said he’d love to have you back.” 

“Goodbye mother.” Louis can’t believe it. She’s gone crazy if she thinks for a second he would reconsider Uni by his own free will. He dropped out for a reason. 

“Don’t you dare to hang up the—” He hangs up, Jay really should have seen this one coming. 

The phone starts ringing not a second later and he puffs out his cheeks, suppressing the urge to throw it over the railing. 

Instead, he dumps his burned down cig in the ashtray and goes into the kitchen, tossing his phone carelessly on the counter with a loud clatter. Harry’s head snaps up at the sudden noise.

“All right?” He asks. 

Louis turns his back on him, washing his hands though they are not dirty. They feel dirty though, so. When Louis doesn’t reply, Harry stands up, he tenses when two arms wrap around his middle from behind and Harry hooks his chin on his shoulder, he kisses under his ear, Louis grits his teeth together. 

“Who called?” Harry murmurs, burying his nose in the crook of Louis' neck. 

Louis steps out of the hug, drying his hands and running them through his hair with a sigh. He avoids looking in Harry’s confused, hurt face and fixes his gaze on the ceiling. 

“Louis?” Harry swallows.

Louis crosses his arms. The kitchen is too small, he needs another cigarette. 

“I’m…” He starts, blinking. “I’ll just go upstairs, yeah? I’m tired.” He really is exhausted, it’s no lie. Last night sits still uneasy in his bones and he hadn’t had the best of sleep. Also, he doesn’t know what to think about the phone call and if Louis knows one thing about his mother, it’s that she is determined as hell. If she wants something, she gets it. This time, it’s getting him to come to London and even though Louis wants anything but to return to London, he’d be a fool to think she will let it drop and leave him be. That means looking at Harry hurts, a lot. 

Even with the craving to step into Harry’s arms and just forget everything for a little while, he smiles close-lipped at him and passes through the door, dragging his heavy feet up the stairs and buries himself under the covers of the cloud-like bed, breathing in the smell of himself and Harry and weed and mushy sweat and all the memories it beholds. 

Louis wishes Harry’s words were true, that he could just live with him forever in this house, that he doesn’t have to do what his mother wants and ignore her, that he’s his own person and a free man, an adult who belongs to nobody but himself. He wishes it’d be true, but the feeling in his guts already tells him there is no bloody way to take Harry up on that too great of an offer. He’d love to, of course, he’d love to just stay and hide and be with Harry. Forever. 

Maybe forever is over sooner than he thought. 

They never talked about the future and maybe they won’t have a future since Louis still needs to tell Harry how he fucked up all week and how miserable he actually is. There it is, that feeling again. The familiarity of it is kind of calming. It’s like a flower blooming, a flower with dead petals, a flower of the sign of death. Emptiness: bittersweet and poisoning at best. 

It spreads, it always does, in record time it crawls from his chest in his stomach, down his legs, the nicotine is a mixture in the feeling and it all lets his bones hum, his mind spin. He heaves a shuddering inhale, trapping it in his lungs until he gets a headache from the lack of air and exhales shortly. 

Rolling onto his stomach, enjoying the dull ache in his rib and in his throat from the way he’s lying, he buries his face in Harry’s pillow. 

Louis pretends to be asleep when the door opens.

 

*    *    * 

 

When Louis wakes up from his much needed time out of reality, there is a warm hand caressing his back, up and down, going in a circle and then continuing stroking his spine up and down. It eases all the tension out of his muscles which hadn’t lessened whilst he was asleep.

For a single moment he forgets that he isn’t in bed because it’s his favourite place to be and his favourite person is next to him, because he always is. And, when the fog of sleep leaves his brain, lets him think a bit more clearly, stiffness settles over his frame and he knows Harry can tell he’s returned to the living by the way his fingers falter in their gentle patterns. 

Louis isn’t particularly keen to open his eyes. He wants the tenderness to stay, he doesn’t want to talk either, he isn’t even sure what to say, how to form basic sentences in the English language without spilling his guts and losing Harry, or snapping at the person that least deserves that and, well losing him. It’s probably all a losing game anyway. Love. Love is complicated. Louis doesn’t even know if that feeling in his chest is love, maybe it’s just the longing to have someone by his side, to care for him more than his parents do or his friends in the party scene. 

Well, the answer if it’s love or not becomes more bland when he does blink his eyes open, finally, and looks straight into Harry’s face, holding his breath when what he sees is a beautiful, delicate smile. It’s like a lightning bolt that zips through his chest, goes to his head and makes him light and boneless. 

Yeah no, Louis is totally, totally gone and he can’t even pretend he doesn’t have a label for the emotion. 

Which in return makes it much harder to talk because he could lose it today, he could lose this feeling today and now that he knows how it is to be in love with someone, he is selfish and doesn’t want to let it go, like ever. 

Louis is fucked. 

Harry cards through his hair and Louis' lashes flutter shut. It’s just, so good, is the thing. He could lay here for the next hours and just enjoy the moment. Lips kiss his shoulder blade, then his neck, then they are wandering down his spine, planting kisses along the way until Harry rests his cheek on the smaller part of Louis’ back, lifting his shirt and burying his nose in Louis’ skin. He shudders, can’t help it, and sighs quietly. 

Angling his arm back blindly, he finds his way in Harry’s hair, playing with the curls that he can catch between his fingers and Harry hums deep in his throat before there is more rustling and the mattress dips down on either of Louis' sides as Harry straddles his upper thighs. He starts massaging Louis’ shoulders and he lets out a groan when Harry finds a tight knot in his blades. 

Harry really should stop being so, so goddamn perfect. 

“How about we shower,” Harry murmurs, bending and kissing Louis' bare neck, “prepare dinner,” He inhales, “and then watch a movie until the others show up.” 

Right. Because Niall called them one million times last night to check if they made it out without getting caught, and with that, Niall invited himself, Lara, and Liam to the house, for comfort or summat. 

Louis loves his friends. He’d thought it was the best idea the Irish lad had had in a while since a quiet evening with his darling people sounded like heaven after the night they had. Movies, junk food, and laughter — perfect. But now with Harry plastered on his spine, a steady warm weight and a voice like dripping honey, Louis would rather get to spend a quiet Sunday with him only. 

Louis thinks, all of them need some friends time. Lara and Liam hiding in their homes isn’t really something that Louis wants to let slip past him, and he knows Harry is worried too. They need their friends as much as they need them. 

Maybe Louis isn’t the perfect boyfriend but if he’d say so himself, he’s a pretty brilliant friend when he tries to be. 

“Alright,” Louis murmurs sleepily. “Lemme get up.” 

“No.” Harry growls into his neck, Louis chuckles.

“Y’know I’m okay with that too.” 

“But I’m not.” Harry whines, it’s cute. Louis allows himself a smile. “You could help me cook?” 

Louis snorts. “And what? Give our dear friends the stomach flu?” 

Harry stills. “You said you want me to teach you.” 

“Yeah.” Louis draws the word out, his voice turning high at the end, like duh, obviously he wants Harry to teach him, just — “Only when it’s us two, I don’t want an angry Zayn on my doorstep or Lara whining about being sick. Also, Niall needs the money from the Diner, I don’t think he’d—”

“You’re unbelievable.” Harry laughs, “So, it’s alright if I get the flu?” 

“Wow, so much faith in my cooking skills.” 

“You just said—”

“Thanks for nothing.” Louis cuts in with a overdramatic voice, pouting though Harry can’t see.

Harry is full on laughing now, his chest vibrating against Louis’ back as he grins into the pillow. Harry pats his sides and it feels oddly final. Perhaps because it is. A second later, the weight is off him and Louis groans, displeased. “Come back.” He whines, not ready for any of it yet. 

“Jack, Jack, come back.” Harry says in a high pitched voice, “ _ Jack _ .” 

Louis laughs and with a stretch that lets his joints crack, he rolls onto his back, scratching lazily at his stomach. He turns his head, so he can look at Harry, who’s now in the bathroom and by the sound of it, he has opened the tap of the shower. The noise of water rushing floats to the bedroom and with it, the thudding of clothes falling to the floor. Hm-mh. 

“Care to join me or…” Harry sticks his head in the bedroom, brows quirked.

“M’comin’ yeah…” Louis yawns not bothering to cover his mouth and crawling out of bed. Before his brain can catch up what he’s doing, he’s stepping into Harry’s arms, then, it eventually does realise what he’s up to and he recoils out of the almost, nearly, barely there hug and kisses Harry’s naked shoulder in passing. 

Harry frowns at him and seriously, Louis can’t blame him. He isn’t just weird, he feels weird too. They shower together, since Louis would have to explain why they can’t and it’s just too much of a burden, it’d lead to other things and explanations and he can’t have that. 

One good thing came out of last night - he can use Seth as excuse for the bruise on his ribs and on his nose. Though Seth actually  _ did _ add some colour to Louis’ face, throat, and chest, it’s all good because Harry’s finger make it better when they step in the bathtub. 

Louis tries very hard to swallow down the guilt. He isn’t sure if he’d prefer to choke on it or not.

 

*    *    * 

 

Louis plants himself on Niall’s lap, petting his hair until the quiff Niall had going on is hanging down in his eyes and Niall shoves him off his lap with a loud cackle. 

He goes out for a smoke with Lara to keep her talking and draws Liam in a cuddle. When someone wants another beer, he’s the one to jump up, making sure everyone is well fed, drunk and happy. 

Basically he's doing everything he possibly can get away with to avoid Harry, who's watching him with narrowed confused eyes and a small pout. And, every time Harry opens his mouth, Louis cuts in before he can voice his suspicions that something is off. Because Louis is indeed in love and doesn’t know what to do. So, he avoids the person he longs for and distracts himself, daring Niall to a battle of FIFA, counting the laughs he coaxes out of Liam, and getting Lara to banter with him, like she usually does. 

Currently, he’s sat on Niall’s lap again because it’s the furthest away from Harry and to be honest, Niall is pretty comfortable. There is nothing wrong with some friendship love sharing and petting Niall’s hair like he’s a cat and announcing they are all going to play the floor is lava when Harry opens his mouth to speak up, probably intending to ask what the hell is going on with Louis. 

Louis balances on the rest of the sofa, arms outstretched like he’s an airplane. However, he’s a tad drunk and a tad sloppy, therefore, his bare feet loose halt. Gravity greets him and he slips with a yelp to the side but before he can crash on the floor, break his ankle and die of misery, arms catch him. He knows who it is although his eyes are shut. 

Laughter ring around him and he blinks, “My hero.” He coos at Harry, kissing his nose, because it’s just right there and gets a sweet smile in return. Their friends whoop and cheer and cat call and any other day, Louis would enjoy this so much he’d burst with happiness. Today, it makes his throat close up and he steps out of Harry’s reach. The hurt that flashes over Harry’s face cuts right through Louis’ heart and he turns on his heels, “Anyone want a beer? Because I sure do.” He says with a voice so forced it actually pains him. He wants to cry. 

Niall raises his empty bottle, oblivious, thank god, and gives him a thumbs up as go ahead. Lara isn’t too easy, her eyes make him squirm. He doesn’t want to find out what Liam looks like, because he always catches on too quickly. That’s probably because Zayn is the most unreadable person on this earth and Liam probably had to google body language or something at the very beginning of their relationship. Louis could totally picture that. 

He flees to the kitchen and heaves a big, fat breath that leaves his mouth like he’s the wolf in that one story with the three pigs…or seven? Whatever, he’s the wolf that tries to blow the house away - the villain of the story. 

Chatter is coming through the door and it’s just a murmur but Louis can’t ignore the nagging that tells him they are talking about him so he turns on the radio, humming manically under his breath as he claps his hands before he gets four cool beers out of the fridge, bumping the door closed with his hip. He takes his time opening them, one by one, he rests his head on the worktop in between because it’s a load of work to get the bottles to open when his fingers shake and his arms lack energy. 

Yeah, the get-together was just the best of ideas, brilliant, excellent. Louis wants to cry really, really badly. He gulps down his sob, hoping it will die in his guts and finally opens the last bottle. 

How crazy would it be of him to climb out of the window? His legs itch to run, get away, just for a bit. This time he wouldn’t get lost. They have walked Travis so much he could find his way around the fields sleepwalking. But, that would be crazy, innit? Decisions, decisions…

He scratches his chin, tapping his index on the sharpest point. His shoulders sag with a grand, exhausted exhale. 

Louis can’t, no matter how much his legs jiggle, he won’t crawl through a window to escape the only place he actually wants to be at. Fuck, he needs to talk to Harry so he can just stop being so anxious all the goddamn time. Jesus, he should tell him right now… 

Running away doesn’t seem so out of question suddenly, he purses his lips. He could hide out in the grass, it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain, it’s actually quite sunny— 

“Lou?” Harry asks, Louis doesn’t turn around. “Are…are you okay?” Then, he adds quieter, “Are we okay, Louis?” 

Shit, fuck, shit fucking fuck. 

He faces Harry and he wishes he hadn't. He looks absolutely heartbroken. Louis’ own heart gives a violent tug that pushes him forward, still having no idea what to say. But he is the one that caused that kicked puppy expression on Harry’s pretty features, and…no, just, no, no, no. Louis can’t stand it, he has to make it better. He cannot let Harry think something is wrong with them, when Louis’ mind is the actual problem. 

“I’m sorry.” Louis mumbles, pressing his forehead to Harry’s chest. It takes a moment for Harry to wrap him in a proper embrace, but when he does, Louis breathes a tad easier. Harry kisses the top of Louis’ head. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

“M’just tired.” Louis sighs, squeezing Harry’s sides a final time before letting up, stepping back and making real eye contact for the first time since the others arrived. 

Harry searches his face, green eyes flickering over every single inch and then they rest on Louis’ lips. He cocks his head to his side, and Louis would love to know what is going on in Harry’s pretty, weird head, but then the moment is over and Harry shakes himself out of it. “Do you want the others to go?” 

Louis frowns confused. “Why would I want that?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry smiles slightly. “You’re not saying anything so I gotta assume, right?” 

Louis doesn’t know who’s behaving more bizarrely, him or Harry. Maybe they have a contest going on without letting the other one know. If that’s the case, Louis is going to fucking win. 

“You know what I really, really, really want?” Louis asks, smiling. It’s possible that he looks a tad insane. Maybe he is. 

“What is that?” Harry asks, a bit more relaxed now that Louis is in a playful mood.

“To pick you a bunch of flowers.” 

Harry snorts, chuckling surprised. His forehead twitches, bemused. 

“Yes,” Louis grins. It’s a real grin this time and the weight lifts a bit when Harry’s eyes light up. “I’m gonna pick you flowers.” So, he doesn’t wait around any longer, marching into the living room, ignoring the calls that are shouted his way, asking what the hell he’s up to, and goes straight for the garden. He’s on a bloody mission. If he can’t make it better with words, which, to be honest, he never was able to in the past, he can show his deep running affection with actions — hence, the flowers. 

The first flower Louis spots, is a simple yet beautiful daisy. He picks it, holding it in his fist and bending down to tear out a marigold. He had never noticed just how many wildflowers are growing in the backyard, and he suddenly feels bad for playing footie on them. He picks another and spots one a bit further away. He jogs to it, picking it, sees his next victim and goes for the catch. He giggles excitedly when he tears out a fully intact dandelion. He loved them as a child, always blew the seeds in Lottie’s face, watched how the white little fluffy seeds got caught in her hair, her nose, and ears. Once she got it in her eye and he worried she’d go blind with the way she blinked and rubbed her lid. 

Obviously her eyesight was fine, so he didn’t feel too bad when he did it again…and again until their dad told Louis off. 

“You missed one!” Niall calls from the terrace, cupping his mouth. Louis salutes him, jumping to the next flower in victory. 

He hears the delighted laughter from his friends, Harry the loudest. Louis smiles to himself. He swirls in a circle, still bent down and his face close to the ground. His mind spins with it and he trips over his own feet, landing ungracefully on his front with a groan. 

There is more laughter as he flips them off, still on the grass and all. Maybe he should just stay here, it’s quite nice. It might be a tad moist and his nose hurts, his legs are tangled awkwardly — but, it’s nice. 

It gets even better when a shadow hovers over him. “Do you need help to get up?” Harry asks, amusement clear in his voice.

“Yes.” Louis grunts. “My world is kind of spinning.” He rolls onto his back. Harry has two heads. He blinks. He might get sick from the way his stomach is turning, filled with four beers and little food. 

Harry snorts, holding out his hand and seriously there is no need for the yelp Harry lets out when Louis tugs on his hand instead of just taking it. It sends him to the ground…or on top of Louis more like. He really should have seen this one coming though. 

“Why, Louis?” Harry mumbles in defeat. 

“Because I’m Louis?”  

Harry chuckles, “Right, stupid question. Sorry.” 

“You’re crushing me.” Louis groans. 

“You dragged me down.” Harry protests, licking his neck. 

Louis squirms from the contact, giggling. “And? You wanna stay on me all night long?” 

Pause. 

“Yes.” Harry says seriously. 

“I think our children wouldn’t like that very much.” 

“Children?” 

“Friends, peasants…” Louis rambles, and Harry lets out a honk of laughter, “whatever you wanna call those wild animals that searched shelter.” Harry rolls off him, and still laughing, he swats at Louis.

“Very funny!” Lara calls. 

So, they heard. Splendid.

Louis flicks them off a second time. He is in a good mood now, and he wants to keep the lightness. 

“Picked you flowers, my flower.” Louis grins holding the bunch up, some are broken at the stems, letting down their heads. Louis pouts at the sad sight.

“See that? My boyfriend picked me flowers!” Harry calls out to their friends, ebullient. 

“Oh trust me, we saw. Got it all on tape!” Lara snickers. 

Louis groans, while Harry fist bumps the air in jubilation. “Now I can rewatch it over and over and over again.” Harry says, grinning at him and taking the bunch of flowers. Though his grin is cheeky, there is a faint blush on his cheeks as Louis kisses his nose. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue, a heavy weight and he sinks his teeth into the flesh, he can't tell Harry, not now, not when Louis needs to be entirely honest first. Otherwise it'd be wrong, right? Even his selfish being can admit that. 

So he leans over, kissing Harry's closed lid instead, since it's safe and he thinks, maybe the words aren't particularly necessary anyway. 

Harry’s lips leave a breathless giggle, he presses the flowers to his chest. “I…I—” He cuts himself off, blinking like he wants to clear his vision, then his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. Louis quirks an eyebrow, poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Harry looks torn for a moment, then he sighs. “Thank you, baby.” He settles on saying and pecks Louis’ mouth. 

His shoulders loosen with relief whilst his heart clenches in disappointment. 

They look at each other in some sort of understanding. Harry's eyes are piercing in the glow of the moon above them. Louis sticks his index in Harry's dimple, creating a tender smile on the plump lips. It'd perfect, right this moment, to just say it but then —

“Alright, I'll get the good shit started!” Niall announces loudly and oddly pointedly and they break out of their little bubble — right, they're not alone. 

They linger behind, letting their friends recoil indoors and share shy glances between each other all the way to the house. Louis clears his throat having the compulsion to avert his gaze at the ground. He doesn't know why, is the thing. Louis literally lives with Harry, has shared the same bloody bed every single night for the past weeks, has seen Harry naked more times than he can count. Harry is still the same person that sucked his dick in public last night, and yet, there is a shift. When Harry touches him, it's like he caresses his skin more than anything. When Harry looks at him, his stomach gives a swirl. It's more than before, it’s so much stronger and Louis yearns to have the talk now - to be honest, now. 

Now, because he'd like to embrace the feeling to it fullest. To enjoy the warm tug in his guts. He can't, however, and that's fine because in the living room there are three of their best friends, all with their own problems and before Louis gets to have Harry alone, he has to be the best of friends first. 

One more night and they will talk it out. Looking at Harry, he gets the weird overwhelming feeling that, yes it'll be okay. Harry will understand and they will figure out the rest as a team. 

Because that's what they are: _a team_. 

 

*    *    *

 

It’s much later that night, when they are at the point of being so drunk that any of them could fall asleep right there and then. Louis is barely able to keep his lids open, too comfy cuddled to Harry’s chest. The nest they created out of blankets and pillows is cozy and maybe a tad too warm. 

They listen to Lara talk about one of her coworkers, a story Louis has heard before, but he puts in some ‘hmm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ to show he’s still into the conversation and his mind hasn’t wandered off to explore deeper thoughts. 

Harry isn’t any better, got scolded at for yawning at the most important part apparently. They banned the name ‘Ivana’ for the night and it’s working so far, every time Lara seems to remember, Niall chimes in with a random question and distracts her perfectly. He’s got it down to an art by now. After the troubled night Harry, Louis, and Niall suffered through they all agreed to keep this evening as problem-free as they could manage. 

“As I was saying, he actually is a real nice guy, y’know? I think—” Lara is cut off by the door bell.

Sudden silence is a heavy fog over their heads as they all exchange perplexed glances. 

“We’re all here.” Niall states dumbly. 

“I’ll go.” Louis says, straightening his back, “Maybe it’s nothing, some kids playing a prank?” The doorbell rings again and Louis gets to his feet. He’s yanked down by his arm, plopping once more on the sofa with a surprised squeak.

“You not gonna open the bloody door.” Harry hisses, then his stern expression falters and fear shines through for just a second. He gulps and gets up himself. “I’ll have a look.” 

Louis can tell he isn’t the only one who’s thinking that this is unsettling. It’s past two in the morning on a Sunday night and after they fled from the police just a day before, this seems weird. On the other hand, Louis doesn’t think the police would show up at this hour, if they found out something, they would’ve come by much, much earlier in the day, probably right in the morning.

Liam and Louis share a frown as they hear the door opening. Louis pulls on his bottom lip, twisting the dry flesh. His leg jiggles and he jumps up when he hears Harry’s voice. 

Liam wants to follow but Louis shakes his head and the lad sinks back on the ground. 

“You can’t just show up here!” Harry says just when Louis steps into the hallway, the person he’s talking to is hidden from the view by Harry’s broad visible tense shoulders. “How daft can a person be?”

“Then just let me in?” 

Harry snorts, the grip he’s got on the doorframe tightening, like he’s about to slam the door shut. Maybe he should, Louis thinks, coming to a halt next to Harry. His eyebrows jump to the ceiling when he sees who it is.

“What the fuck?” Is what comes intellectually out of his mouth. 

“Hi mate.” 

"Don’t call me mate.” Louis snaps, suppressing the urge to, you know, strangle him. Louis, of course, doesn’t know where this is coming from. It’s not that his throat still is hurting from last night or anything, eh?"

The arsehole stutters and runs a hand through his blonde hair. There are major bags underneath his blue eyes. Louis thinks he should just crawl back to wherever he came from. 

“Listen Lou…” 

“It’s Louis.” Louis interrupts, feeling difficult and goddamn pissed off. He crosses his arms, levelling the lad with a glare. If the saying, ‘if looks could kill’ has any truth, he hopes Seth will just die on the spot. 

“Louis, uh — I just wanted, to…uh…apologise?”

A car passes the house and Harry stiffens even more. “Alright, get in here before anyone sees.”

The moment Seth is in the hallway, Louis is on him, shoving the blonde lad against the wall and pinning him on the spot. Seth lets out a surprised yelp.

“Don’t, Lou.” Harry murmurs from behind him, trying to bring distance between the two, he lets up from Louis’ shoulder, when Louis isn’t moving an inch.

“You can swallow your apology and choke on it for all I care.” Louis whisper-shouts, his nose leaves an angry blow of air. “You almost killed me last night.” Pause. “Twice.”

Seth winces when Louis presses the side of his forearm against his throat, “Doesn’t feel too good, does it?” He asks, a self-satisfying smile steals itself on his lips, when Seth whimpers like the pathetic little scum he is.

“Please, just hear me out—” Seth says with a pressed voice.

“I’m all ears.” Louis states, widening his grin - it’s possibly a bit creepy by now. Louis wants to beat the shit out of Seth.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks from…somewhere, Louis can’t take his eyes off Seth to check, nor does he care much about anyone at this moment. “Louis!” He exclaims, apparently catching on now that he’s closer or something. “Harry get him off!”

Louis can’t help but feel sickly gleeful when Harry doesn’t do shit to save Seth’s arse. There is so much stocked up rage inside Louis: the call from his mother, anger against himself, fury towards everything and everyone. Just, so goddamn much that Louis can’t control the shaking of his fists when he lets up from Seth’s throat, he can barely suppress the pull to hit him right in his ugly face, get the nose nicely bleeding and his bones breaking—

Yeah, Louis is bloody furious but not daft.

Seth rubs his throat, scratches over the hollow his Adam's apple and breathes in so deep, his chest heaves with the action. Nobody says a word for a few minutes.

“Your brother didn’t spill then?” Harry says eventually. Though he voices it as question, he seems like he already knows.

“No…” Seth croaks, eyes flickering to the ground then past Louis’ shoulder. “He’s still in the cell though, I’m…” His voice cracks and Louis almost takes pity on him. He didn’t know Felix was in jail. “Our parents are trapped on a twelve hour flight, so…” He trails off, ends it with a tiny shrug and then laughs brokenly. “I just, this all is my fault.”

Louis snorts at that. No shit, don’t you say.

“I lost control and because of that my brother is stuck in a cell. He’s only eighteen.” There are unshed tears in the blue of Seth’s eyes now and Louis steps to Harry’s side.

“Let’s…” Harry exhales tiredly, “get you a beer.”

Seated in the living room, there is so much tension between all of them that Louis wants to laugh. It’s ridiculous, even Niall shifts uncomfortably and that says a lot. No one is talking, all nursing fresh beers and sharing small looks between each other. Lara nips on her lip in worry, and Liam jiggles his leg so fast it hurts Louis’ eyes to follow the movement. Harry has run his hand through his hair so many times, his curls have almost straightened out completely.

Seth opens and closes his mouth, sets his jaw, takes a sip and repeats it all over again. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say. Louis doesn’t want to get annoyed, he understands talking has proven difficult, but when he clears his throat for the one millionth times, Louis breaks. It’s late and he’s so bloody exhausted and over the whole thing that he just craves to go to bed, cuddle Harry close and sleep all the thoughts and memories away.

However, he won’t get to do that until Seth spills and leaves and hopefully never returns. So when the clock shows it’s nearly three and he realises they have sat in silence for a good hour, he gets to his feet. All eyes are on him, awaiting.

He musters a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as forced as it feels and claps his hands once. “I’m going out for a smoke.” He announces. The others look disappointed and Louis wonders what they were thinking he was going to do or say. “Seth, you’ll be joining me.” He adds, taking the pack from the coffee table and getting a fag out, tucking it behind his ear.

“Are you sure?” Seth looks at Harry like… Louis doesn’t even know, what does Seth think Harry is going to do? Say no? Jump up and offer to tag along? Well, the last thought could be true, Harry does look like he’s considering it. Louis lifts his eyebrows and Harry shrugs.

Louis heaves a sigh, “Move.” He directs at Seth, already on the way out, “I’m tired and so are the others.”

Seth is slow to follow, taking his sweet time drinking the last bit of his beer and rubbing up and down his thigh before scrambling off the floor and shuffling after Louis like a small boy that gets an earful from his mother.

Outside, it’s cold. Louis shivers.

Seth cracks his knuckles. Louis sets the end of the stick aflame and sucks deeply, the nicotine waking him up a tad more. He blinks when the fumes get in his eyes. They burn and Louis wants to go back inside.

“I’m sorry Louis.” Seth swallows, and Louis waits. “I…” He checks over his shoulder, but no one is listening in. They are alone. “Remember when Thomas said he has a girlfriend?”

It takes him a long drag of smoke to get what he means by that, recalling the loo-situation and the guy next to the toilet. He nods wordlessly.

“Well, turns out he was talking about my girlfriend.” Seth chuckles, “She never cheated.” He continues, quietly, “I know she wouldn’t do that, she is a lovely girl.”

“Okay, what…” Louis frowns, flicking the ash in the night air.

“Yeah, he’s…he told me he’s in love with her.”

Louis directs his gaze heavenward. “And you throw punches because some guy is in love with your girlfriend who apparently is loyal?” Jesus Christ, and they all want to be students, adults, being taken seriously. There is more drama going on than when he still was in school.

“He knew her from before…actually.” Seth chuckles, “I met her through him, so there is that. I dunno…Maria and I never talked about Tom.”

“Listen,” Louis cuts in. He’s in no mood to hear all of the story, he wants this to be over as soon as he can manage. “I don’t care about any of this.” He says bluntly. Seth bites his lip in defeat, but Louis doesn’t care about that either. “That’s between you three to talk over, I don’t know them. We’re not friends, Seth, and what you pulled last night was over the top dramatic.” He blinks, gives Seth a few seconds to let the words sink in his brain, then he continues, “Have you ever in your life taken drugs before last night?”

The answer is written all over Seth’s face. “Just felt right?” He shrugs, biting his knuckle self-consciously. “There weren’t a lot of people left, and…I missed Maria and—” He huffs, laughs breathlessly and cradles a hand through his short hair. “Yeah.”

Louis isn’t one to judge when it comes to trying stuff, and also Seth’s thinking is pretty smart. Everyone reacts differently to drugs. Louis has seen people freak out when they were on their third drag of weed, crying about the turning of their stomachs and thinking they will die and — what if their parents find out? Oh, oh, that can’t happen of course.

He always had laughed, thought it was hilarious. He was a dick back then, considering he enjoyed coke more than weed and marijuana lulled him to sleep or he got the worst cravings, eating everything he could possibly find. That’s how he didn’t die of starvation from all the coke he sniffed, the weed made up for it, but…now is not the right moment to think about that, so he shoves the train of memories from him and blinks into the present.

Seth looks like he said something and is awaiting some sort of responds.

“Sorry?”  

“I said, I didn’t mean to pull all that shit on you, I just…dunno?” He mutters, “I was…it was such a weird feeling and I…acted on it without thinking? I kinda thought everyone was just against me.”

Paranoia, that’s what it’s called. He’d experienced it first hand. Louis sighs, he kind of wants to stay mad at the lad, he wants to have a target for his bottled anger and just…let it out on him, to laugh and say, ‘Yeah, right, that makes it all good’ but looking in the earnest face, the blue eyes behold so much sadness, so much apology…and just, can’t.

He can’t.

Before he can say his part, resuming that it’s alright and he better not be doing drugs for the next…few years, probably, the backdoor opens and Harry steps outside, concerned eyes flitting from Seth to Louis. “I see there is no bloodbath outside. It was so quiet, I thought I’d better check before I find some dead body in my backyard.”

Seth chuckles for good measure. “No dead body, no.” He shoots Louis an uncertain look, like he isn’t sure if they are good again to joke. One of the corners of Louis’ mouth lifts a tiny bit.

“Hm,” Harry throws his arm over Louis’ shoulder, tucking him close and Louis leans into the touch. Harry eyes Seth with a vacant expression. Seth gets uneasy once more and shifts where he’s standing. Harry gets a cig out and traps it between his lips, the glow of the lighter dancing over his cheeks before he tosses it carelessly on the table. Louis knows it’s all dealer Harry, he can tell by the way his body is more confident. “Seth, you do understand that I won’t be selling at any of your parties anymore,” then, he adds pointedly, “any drugs, you’ll be blacklisted.” 

The words hang between the three just like the fume of Harry’s fag. 

“Uh— I mean…I…why?” Seth splutters, taken aback. “We’ve been doing this…for how long? The past year? C’mon, man…” 

“Let’s see, you attacked me, you nearly  _ killed _ my boyfriend,  _ twice _ . Then your little dickhead of a brother started throwing shit at us for trying to get the situation under control,” Harry takes a drag, waving the cig under Seth’s nose, like he isn’t paying attention, which he is, Seth just looks like he isn’t breathing anymore. “And because that wasn’t enough, the police came and you didn’t want to let us go, you basically dragged Louis back. You know how that could have ended, right? You get that this situation could have gotten us in jail for…probably years, I dunno.” He shrugs. “So, you’re blacklisted. I don’t want to get in trouble with my people.” Harry shivers at the thought, and Louis squeezes his waist.

“My brother is in jail.” Is all Seth says, and, wow, totally missing the point.  

Harry lets out a mocking laugh. “Are you for real? Like, do you…” He shakes his head in utter disbelief, “He’ll get out, your parents are wealthy. But, this is much bigger than you wanting to buy drugs from me or some shitty party. You get that, right?”

Seth clicks his tongue.

“You’re in my home.” Harry continues when he sees the defensive expression, “In the middle of the night and if you start complaining about me looking out for you…” Harry trails off. “I don’t want to witness you on drugs ever again.” He finishes lamely.

Seth downcasts his eyes, scratching his shoes against each other like a school boy scolded by his teacher. When he lifts his head, he looks just sad. “I’m sorry Harry. I really am. You have to know that.” Harry nods slowly, Seth mimics him. “I better get going then. Don't want to overstay my welcome.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.” Harry says, softer now that Seth understands. He claps him on the shoulder without detaching himself from Louis.

They share a tiny smile, then Seth sighs. “Alright, goodnight you two and thanks for the beer and…everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you.”

“I’m glad we won’t ever find out.” Harry says. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Seth says his round of goodbye’s to the others who mutter their own, still eyeing the lad with suspicious expressions. Then, Harry leads him out and Louis plops on the sofa with a heavy, tired sigh. He fidgets with his hair as he hears Harry and Seth exchange words in the hallway.

Louis is just relieved this is over once and for all.

“An interesting night after another.” Niall chuckles, when Harry returns and flops on the cushion, head resting in Louis’ lap. Automatically Louis starts playing with his hair. “It won't ever get boring.”

“I wish my life was boring.” Harry grumbles, nosing at Louis' thigh. “One day. Just one tiny day of peace.”

Louis makes a sympathetic noise.

“You guys staying over, right?” Harry asks, lifting his head to get a better look at the bunch.

Lara yawns, Niall nods — he loves sleepovers, Louis thinks the lad would just move in with Harry if he could — and Liam is already halfway to the land of dreams, that's probably answer enough. Harry chuckles and Louis pats his head, thumb caressing the spot on his cheek where the dimple would be, the skin gives in under Louis' touch when Harry smiles.

Lara and Liam take Gemma’s old room upstairs while Niall squeals over the couch, switching on the telly to a random channel.

“Who called you this morning?” Harry asks, shifting on the mattress to get more comfortable. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand, and blinks at Louis curiously.

Louis, drowsy and warm under the sheets, has to take a moment to understand what Harry means. A call? He didn’t get a call. But, slowly the wheels turn inside his brain and it clicks. Louis exhales softly, uncertain if he should be honest about it or play dumb. It’s late, he’s exhausted and so is Harry, perhaps they could talk about it in the morning. But then Harry’s hand slides over Louis' waist, resting in the low curve of it and his thumb rubs circles over the bruise and Louis guesses it doesn’t matter when he tells Harry.

“My mother.” Louis whispers with a sigh.

“Oh?” Harry tries for casual, but his fingers twitch nervously on Louis’ skin.

Louis considers just leaving it at that but Harry has shown so many parts of himself in the past weeks and Louis supposes he'd be the biggest hypocrite on this planet if he didn’t give more information than that. If it were the other way around, he would be mad at Harry if he closed off.

Louis rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Harry's hand slides on his stomach.

“What was it about?” Harry asks after a moment of just breathing.

“Hmm…she…” He heaves another sigh. This is ridiculous, why is it so hard to say it out of sudden? His shoulders are tense. “She found out I'm not with Lottie, so, like...she wants me to,” he gulps, “come to London?”

There he said it, it's done. The words are out and Harry takes a sharp inhale like the confession physically hurt him.

“Are— uh, what did you…say?”

Louis chuckles humourlessly as he lifts a hand in the air, stretching his arm. “I'm not coming back to London?” He lets his arm drop on the duvet with a soft thud. His fingers clench into the sheet when Harry doesn't saying anything for a while.

He risks a brief glance at him, Harry stares back, lip drawn between his teeth, biting the pink flesh.

Then Harry puffs out his cheeks and huffs a breathless, low chuckle. “Guess she didn’t take it very well?”

Louis allows himself a small smile. “She never takes no for an answer.” He yawns, rolling onto his side, bedding his cheek on his palm. “I hung up on her.” He shrugs a shoulder.

Harry’s eyes flit over Louis' face, searching for…something, maybe a sign that Louis is bullshitting him or a sign that Louis is sad. Whatever it is that Harry looks for in Louis' expression, he seems to be satisfied at the end. “C’mere.” He murmurs, pulling Louis to him and tangling their legs together under the covers. He kisses Louis' forehead with soft lips, lingering on the spot as Louis' eyelashes flutter at the gentle contact.

He sighs and snuggles closer, wrapping an arm over Harry’s waist and burying his nose between shoulder and neck. “Thanks for telling me.” Harry says just before Louis loses consciousness. “I’m glad you did.” Louis' heart picks up, and he holds his breath. “You know you can tell me anything? We’re partners, yeah?” His stomach flips with guilt, now — now would be the perfect moment to spill everything, get it out, put it behind him.

Louis stays mute, however, he kisses Harry’s chin. “Thank you.” He mumbles.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Hmm…” Louis closes his eyes and it doesn’t take long for Harry’s breath to even out. Louis wishes he could sleep too. He is exhausted after all, but…there is a heavy weight planted on his shoulders and he’s scared if he falls asleep it will crush him.

When he is certain Harry is truly out and deep into unconsciousness, he detaches himself from Harry’s arms and legs, rolling out of bed and padding into the bathroom. He flicks the light on and splashes cold water in his face. There is rustling coming from the bedroom and Louis gulps, ears perked to figure out if he woke Harry up and has to explain himself. When there are no footsteps, he heaves a great sigh of relief.

He’s completely awake now, no sign of the former exhaustion in his bones and he scrubs a hand over his face before making the decision to go back into the living room, needing some time to clear his head and get the humming of restlessness out of his body.

To his surprise, he isn’t the only one who couldn’t find sleep. The telly is still on the lowest volume, Niall perched on the sofa, munching on some crisps. He glances at Louis briefly, then directs his attention back on screen, “Hey.” He greets absently around a mouthful.

“Hola Neil.” Louis flops down next to him, slipping underneath the fluffy blanket and propping his naked feet on the coffee table that’s still covered with their beer bottles.

They sit in silence, eating crisps and watching a cartoon.

“Why are you in the living room, Tommo?” Niall asks eventually, licking crumbles from his thumb. “Why aren’t you with Haz?”

Louis sighs, stuffing his mouth with crisps to stall more time. When he looks at Niall, the lad is already gazing at him curiously. Louis swallows the junk down.

“Couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to wake H.” He shrugs, waving a hand in a ‘what can I do?’ gesture. Niall narrows his eyes at him and throws a single crisp at Louis’ face.

“Why don’t I believe you?” He sighs, stretching his arms and groaning as his shoulder blades gives a cracking noise. He rolls his head side from side, and Louis cringes visibly when there are two more cracks to be heard.

“You should get that checked.” Louis teases. Niall sticks out his tongue. They chuckle but sober pretty quickly, both sighing.

“I know you lot think I’m oblivious to everything that’s going on.” Niall says quietly. “But that’s not true. I see things, I just choose to let you figure it out on your own.”

Louis stiffens. “Niall, nobody thinks you’re oblivious.” When Niall gives him a look, Louis retracts, “Maybe…a bit, it’s charm of your personality.”

Niall snorts, “Yeah, eh? My  _ charm _ .” He waggles his fingers, then drops his hands in his lap, shoulders hunching. “S’not like I feel left out—” Louis opens his mouth to cut in, but Niall continues quickly. “I know you guys love me ’n stuff, s’just…” He groans, ruffling his hair and rolling his head on the sofa, so he can look at Louis with a tired expression. Louis mimics him, sinking lower on the cushions until half of his calves are resting on the table’s surface and wiggling his toes as the blanket slips off them. “I know you talk about your shit with Lara and Harry has you now, so…”

“You feel left out.” Louis finishes for him.

Niall shrugs then nods, staring at the ceiling. “Guess so.”

“I can speak for everyone when I say this wasn’t our intention, yeah? Harry’s still ya best mate, man and Lara…” She’s his snow white buddy… Louis can’t say that part out loud, obviously, so he sets on saying, “Lara is a tad lonely at the moment, and I am too when Harry is gone to do his thing.”

Niall clears his throat. “I get that, I know it’s nothing personal…since Zayn left Liam hangs with his uni friends. Sometimes I just think I don’t fit in the group anymore?”

“That’s bullshit.” Louis grunts, rolling his eyes. “We don’t have a scheme goin’ on here. Ya one of my best mates, Niall.”

“Awh, Tommo!” Niall coos, patting Louis’ good cheek. “Are we having a heart to heart convo right now? Does that mean I get a kiss?” He forms his lips to a kiss mouth, making weird slurping noises.

“Then get in here, Neil.” Louis chuckles, cupping Niall’s nape of his neck. Niall’s eyes widen when Louis forces his head forward. He plants a wet kiss on Niall’s forehead, ignoring Niall’s hands that try to shove him off him and ruffling Niall’s hair fondly.

“Gross.” Niall wrinkles his nose, wiping the wet spot on his skin and rubbing it off on Louis’ shirt. “I regret saying that.”

“You loved it, don’t lie.” Louis grins.

Niall huffs, but returns the grin. “Feeling the love, man.” He says taking the remote in his hand and playing with it without changing the channel. His expression turns thoughtful and silence settles over them. It’d be comfortable if it weren’t for the small unsure glances Niall shoots his way.

When Niall does it again, Louis lifts his brows.

“I know you weren’t home the other night.” Niall confesses quietly, flipping the remote in his hand. Louis follows the motion with his eyes before fixing them on Niall. He needs a moment to understand what Niall said.

His heart drops to the floor.

Awkwardly, he adjusts his position on the sofa, drawing one of his legs under his bum. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Niall says without heat, rolling his eyes. “I know you gotta stay home and all, but I also know Thursday you weren’t in the house.” Louis tries to intervene but Niall rolls his eyes carrying on and Louis' words die on his tongue, “I came by with movies Lou, waited ’til past midnight…” He shrugs helplessly. “Sent you a message but you never replied.”

Louis gulps, tearing at the collar of his shirt. The temperature in the room gone higher somehow and Louis’ pores start to squeeze out cold sweat. Well — isn’t that just a great turn of events, eh? Louis is for once incapable of finding his voice, of forming a quick lie. There isn’t anything he could say though, the words ‘I was hiding out in the closet,’ or ‘I took an hour long shower’ would be just ridiculous, stupid even to his own ears. So Louis opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a fish.

There is a tumult of emotions roaring in his body. However, the fact that Niall didn’t say a thing and kept his mouth shut though he knew says everything Louis needs to know in return, to relax back on the sofa, to tame the voice that whispers. ‘Ha, you’re exposed, Harry’s gonna leave you, probably already packing your shit to kick you out’.

“Care to share where you were?” Niall prompts, his voice gentle.

“That rhymed.” Louis states dumbly, still stunned and trying to wrap his mind around what just happened.

Niall snorts, shaking his head and stretching his legs with a groan. “Look, like you said we’re best buddies, eh? I didn’t tell Harry for a reason. I would have if it were anyone else, Lou, so…” He trails off, throwing his hand in the air.

“What’s the reason?” Louis wonders.

“My reason for not telling Haz is that I think you had a good enough reason to go out?” Niall twists his face in confusion, then he chuckles quietly. “Mate it’s not the end of the world, eh? You left the house, wow, what a biggie.” He widens his eyes dramatically, adding a laugh for good measure. “Little rebel.”

Louis smiles, dragging his hand down his face and scratching harshly his collarbone. “Just couldn’t stand being trapped in the house anymore I guess…” He says with a sigh. “It’s hell mate, I’m telling ya, I’m bored, so bloody bored.” Hearing a dull squeaking noise, his eyes flicker to the screen, then back to Niall, who looks at him openly, no judgment whatsoever. It calms Louis’ nerves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t do that either.” Niall says with a sympathetic smile, clapping Louis’ shoulder.

“Just…” Louis sits more upright, “Y’know I never felt this caged, I was around people most of the time. Even when I was in college, I kinda made it work, but here —” Louis runs his fingers through his hair, trying to find the right words to express himself, “here it’s just…I feel like a bloody housewife.” Niall and Louis chuckle at that in unison, “Waiting for Harry to return and entertain me.” They sober and share a look of understanding.

“Tough.” Niall agrees, covering his mouth that stretches to a yawn. It’s probably a sign both of them should go to bed. A quick check up with the clock tells him it’s way later than he’d thought, close to six in the morning, damn. Louis hadn’t noticed how the time flew by. “But you know it’s only Harry looking out for ya, right?” Niall brings Louis’ attention back on him. “S’not like it’s easy for him either.”

“That’s why I’m not sayin’ anything, I’d feel bad for complaining.” Louis says grim. “It’s my fault. I pushed him to let me continue dealing, now it’s just a mess.”

“At least you’re in it together…” Niall replies with a shrug, “Like I said, you deserve better, you should…” He trails off.

Louis frowns. “What?”

“Really list your options? I guess?”

“Niall…” Louis warns, exhaustion pulling at his bones.

“M’just sayin’ there has to be a way out.”

Louis thinks about Anne and shakes his head somberly, “I don’t think there is, Niall…”

Two arms wrap around his shoulders and then his body sags sideways against Niall’s chest. He huffs a surprised laugh as Niall holds him close. “A cuddle will make it better now, can’t stand seeing you so sad, buddy.”

Louis hugs him back, a tad awkwardly considering he’s laying in a weird angle, but they make it work and when they part, there are two tiny smiles on both of their faces.

“Thanks, Ni.” Louis says softly, feeling embarrassingly choked up. He blinks the wetness out of his eyes.

“S’all good.” Niall grins, back to his usual beaming self. He turns off the telly, hooking more of the blanket and kicking at Louis’ shin, “Better get back to your boy, eh?”

Louis rolls his eyes but compiles, getting to his feet with a stretch. “Night, Nialler.”

“Night-y night, Lou Lou.” Niall throws an air kiss his way and when Louis pretends to dodge it, Niall flips him off. Louis stifles his chuckles all the way up to the second level, feeling a tad lighter than when he went down in the living room.

He halts at the doorway, watching Harry’s sleeping figure, just for a second, memorising the way the moonlight sets the room in a cold glow. Harry’s hair is a dark contrast to the white creamy coloured sheets, a tangled mess on the pillow. Shadows draw on Harry’s face side profile, his eyes move under the closed lids and Louis shakes himself out of his observation, not wanting to risk waking Harry up. He crawls back into bed, fingers threading through Harry’s hair for a moment before he sighs and rubs his head on the pillow to get more comfy.

He stares at the back of Harry’s head for a long beat, then he turns onto his back and throws an arm over his face, praying sleep will find him now that he has talked it out with Niall and is more determined with things, to discuss it with Harry, to take the next step.

However, the blankness sets slowly but surely over his mind when the first rays of light shine in his face and only then his brain chimes in with the question of why Harry lays on the far edge of the bed.

 

***    *    ***   
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tuesday guys! I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry it took me ages to upload, that wasn't my intention. There were some difficulties on my beta's side, but she still tried her best to edit as fast as she could, which I'm so grateful for. So thank you again, Serena, it means the world to me that you're still helping me out!! xxxx
> 
> ANYWAY, I didn't want to let another week pass, that's why I upload it today. 
> 
> A great thank you to all of you, who have been reading my story, commenting on it and leaving kudos. It really warms my heart to see that you guys like what I have written. 
> 
> And sorry again for the delay, I really hope it won't happen again!! I'm really sorry. :/ 
> 
> anyway - enjoy chapter 16, happy reading!! xxxx

 

***    *    ***

 

 

The morning after, Harry rolled out of bed, promised to call, and Louis hasn’t heard back from him ever since. It’s afternoon and Louis’ nails are bitten raw to the flesh.

He sighs in frustration, getting the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pockets and staring blankly at it in his open palm. Pursing his lips, he stretches sideways, reaching for the lighter, staring at it too. He tucks the cig behind his ear and clicks the lighter, watching the flame flicker in the gentle breeze outside.

It's oddly fascinating to watch the dancing of orange-reddish glow. He holds his other hand just a tad above, feeling the warmth. He grits his teeth together and lowers his hand. It’s getting hotter, and his cruel smile grows as he enjoys the slight burn until the flame licks on his flesh and he hisses, withdrawing his arm and shaking his hand out in flaming pain. He blows over his burned palm with a frown.

Then finally, he traps his fag between his lips, clicking the lighter another time and inhaling the fumes down his itching throat, letting it fill his lungs. He visualises the smoke curling inside him, swirling, trying to find a way out of his body. A numb headache on his forehead erupts as he exhales shakily, the grey fume is carried away by the wind and he shivers with it.

The backdoor opens, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Are you going to sit outside all day?”

He dips his chin to his chest and scratches in the nape of his neck more forcefully than necessary before rolling his head from side to side and taking another short drag with a hissing sound through his teeth.

“I see.” The boards of the terrace squeak, and then he’s alone again. He is kind of disappointed.

See, Louis doesn’t know exactly what is wrong. It’s nothing new that Harry has to leave in the morning and after the eventful weekend, and it really shouldn’t be a surprise that his boy has to do dealer stuff with other dealers, who all are in Manchester, doing whatever they do there. Most likely selling,  _ huh _ . However — there is this needle inside Louis’ guts, poking his heart like it’s trying to get a rile out of him, a sensation that hints something is wrong and Louis just can’t figure out what it is. Needless to say, it’s driving him insane.

He couldn’t stand staying indoors. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, suffocating him. Niall and Liam had hung around until Niall had to go to work near lunch hour, and Liam had a thing with his parents - his sister is coming for a visit, or summat. Lara, obviously, refused to leave Louis alone, since she had nothing to do for the whole day and apparently wanted to watch him suffer through his misery. Louis doesn’t understand why she even bothers. She’s watching movies inside while he’s been sitting on the steps for three long stretched hours, shaking in the cold and chain-smoking, probably slowly killing his lungs. His nails ache under the nervousness in his chest, just like his lip, that’s bitten bloody and swollen.

He licks his bottom lip absently. His teeth sink into the flesh and the tip of his tongue darts out to play with the dead skin. Throwing his fag in the garden and lighting a new one, a sigh of self-pity leaves his mouth and destroys the artful curl of grey smoke he emitted into the air. He pouts. It looked pretty.

Louis had it all planned out, practiced his speech during his morning shower. He wanted to tell Harry about his cravings, not letting him find the much needed peace at night, that he wants to scratch his own eyes out or tear the skin off his bones because — it’s just so bloody tight and Louis can’t breathe. That guilt is literally eating him alive, swallowing him down and dragging him in the darkest pits of hell. The longer Harry stays out, the longer Louis has to feel like utter shit and he’s scared he’ll nest his home there — in the darkness. He doesn’t want that, he wants to be better, but how will that ever work when his mind continuously feeds him with information of just why he won’t be able to. That he's weak and not worth it anyway.

His mind and him have been fighting all day already and it’s exhausting to resist the urge to go upstairs and get the shoebox out of its hiding spot. But he does, because there is a voice telling him that Harry found out somehow and is mad at him and that’s why he isn’t coming home. That Harry has had enough of Louis and, therefore, is done with him.

Louis swallows thickly, taking the last hit of his stick and throwing it to join the other butts piled on the ground. Making a mental note to clean the mess up later, he heaves a sigh that lets his tummy blow up like a balloon and reaches for the pack again, only to find it sadly empty. Setting his jaw in annoyance he tosses it to the butts and rests his forehead on his thighs, wrapping his hands around his shins.

The backdoor opens again and Louis stiffens.

“Are you done moping?”

“Do I look like I’m done? Leave me alone, little one.” Louis mutters grimly, barely moving his lips.

“What’s the matter anyway?” 

To his complete frustration, footsteps are coming his way. His muscles tense when a small hand touches his shoulder and Lara sits down next to him. He can feel her eyes on him, and bites his tongue to not lash out at her. 

“Did something happen?” She prompts, because Lara never knows when to leave him be and just has to know everything. “Weren’t you all disgustingly sweet yesterday?” 

He rolls his head, peeking up at her through his lashes. “Who says it’s about Harry?” He grumbles. When she gives him a look, he rolls his eyes, dipping his head down to his thighs, because he can’t stand her face at the moment, as pretty as it may be. 

He shakes her hand off his shoulder.

“Forgot for a sec you can be such a dickhead sometimes.” Lara deadpans, probably glaring at him. “C’mon, Lou.” There is a pout in her voice and fingers tug on the stray strands of his hair, then a finger wiggles in the inside of his ear and he draws his head to the side with a huff and a glare sent her way.

His brows knit together so strongly, it actually hurts. 

“Tell me your problem and I’ll make it better.” She coos, blinking in a flirty manner at him and he bitterly recalls the first time they were in the cinema, Lara had looked at Harry the same way. Little did he know he’d be living in the dealer's house or find out more about him than the prices of the shit Harry is selling. Which brings him back to his misery, because Harry isn’t home and Louis is losing the courage to tell him the truth. When Lara sees her tactic isn’t working she drops the act with a sigh and draws her knees to her chest, resting her chin on the kneecaps. “Okay, don’t tell me, we can sit here in silence and mope together, if you’d rather have that.” 

He juts his bottom lip, defiant. 

“You’re a child, Louis.” Lara twists her face in frustration, brown eyes darken a shade. “How bad can it be?” 

“I don’t know.” Louis muses, rolling his shoulders and supporting his upper body weight on his flattened palms. “You got a ciggy for me?” 

Lara purses her lips and Louis narrows his eyes at her. She sighs, getting a pack out and throwing it in his lap. He quirks his lips in victory and she lightly rolls her eyes. When they are halfway through the gleaming sticks, Louis can’t stand the look on Lara’s face anymore. He blows out smoke though the corner of his mouth, “Did Harry say something to you?” He asks eventually.

“ _ Aha _ _!_ ” She snaps her fingers, pointing at him with a cheerfully smug expression, “It  _ is _ about Harry! Called it!” She fists pumps.

He gives her an unimpressed look and she sobers again, shoulders sagging forward, “He didn’t say anything other than what he probably told you too, he’ll be back. Did you guys fight? I didn’t hear anything but…” She grins, short-lived, “Liam snores pretty loud, so…”

“No, we didn’t fight, that’s why…”  _ I feel like something is off without knowing what it actually is _ , he finishes in his mind,  _ call it sixth sense. _

“Well,” Lara licks her lips, pondering over the words before speaking up, “I’d say it’s nothing, it’s not the first time that Harry has left in the morning and stayed out ’til late, now is it?”

“Of course, yeah, you’re probably right. ’S nothing.” Louis nods to each of his words, trying to convince himself to actually believe it, to tame the queasiness in his guts.

“See, there is a good lad.” Lara smiles, patting his knee in an auntie-like way.

“Don’t you have work to be at or summat?” Louis asks.

“Trying to get rid of me, Tommo?”

Louis cracks a smile. “Never.” He throws his arm around her, tucking her at his side. She rests her head on top of his shoulder, stifling her yawn on her wrist.

“Can we go back inside now? It’s getting cold.” She whines, nuzzling closer to gain more of his body heat and rubbing her hands.

“Good idea. Can’t feel my bum anymore, it’s numb.” Louis agrees.

Lara lets out a quiet laugh, then stretches and gets to her feet. He does the same and follows her inside. He hadn’t noticed just how cold it was until he’s in the living room, the temperature so much more bearable and cozy.

“Ivy called.” Lara says offhandedly, flopping on the sofa and turning on the telly.

“And?” Louis coaxes when she doesn’t say any more to that and goes into the kitchen to switch on the kettle. “Tea?” He calls.

“Please!”

He hums, getting two mugs out, tapping his index on the worktop whilst he waits for the water to boil. Louis absently glances out the window, then down to the kettle only to do a double-take back outside because — the black car is standing in the driveway and Harry slams the door shut. Louis' blood runs cold as the clicking of the kettle tells him the water is ready. His heart flutters uncontrollably as there is a familiar jiggle of keys and then the front door opens a moment later followed by the sound of heavy boots walking towards the living room…

“Hey sugar!” Lara chirps, greeting Harry and Louis zones out their conversation, picking at his lip and cursing himself for  biting his nails down so much it doesn’t even hurt like it’s supposed to.

What does he do? What does he say? Should he go back in the other room and join them? Should he wait it out? What if Harry doesn’t want to see him? What the hell should Louis do?

In the end, he pours water in the two mugs ignoring the shaking of his hands and dumps tea bag in them, since he forgot them in the first place and Louis guesses Lara wouldn’t be too pleased to drink her tea…without, well, the  _ tea _ . He plays with the string of the bag, watching it swirl in the water as he tugs it up and down.

He only stops when he hears his name and holds his breath, waiting with a thick layer of anxiety covering his bones. He stands stiff like a board, unable to move an inch. His pinky twitches, that’s it. He might die because of the lack of air. He might die from the overwhelming tugging in his guts, he might die from the way his heart is beating out of control. He might die right then, when he hears the boots strolling towards the kitchen.

His heart flatlines and he doesn’t turn when he feels another presence entering the room. He would gulp, but his mouth is too dry for that, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Maybe he’ll die because he swallowed his tongue at the end. Louis sinks his teeth in the flesh, just in case he actually ends up swallowing his tongue and ends up unattractively choking on it in front of Harry — also, the pain is a much needed distraction, a wake up call that gets him out of his thoughts and makes it possible to turn around, facing Harry with all the fear inside his chest.

In his imagination he played it out, Harry looking at him with a sneer, eyes cold and angry words leaving the lips Louis kissed so many times. In his mind, there would be a lot of shouting and flushed cheeks and doors slamming shut and Louis getting kicked out right here and then. In his defence, he had all day long to come up with the worst scenarios, the worst ending for them.

What he did not expect under all circumstances is Harry standing in the doorway, his brows quirked and a small smile on his face, like he doesn’t know what emotion to give in to: confusion or amusement.

“Are you alright?” Harry chuckles lightly, nose scrunching the way it always does when Harry thinks something is cute or he’s trying to hold back laughter. When Harry realises Louis isn’t able to form any sort of response, his eyes narrow in concern and the amusement leaves his features as he steps more into the kitchen, forearms leaning on the breakfast bar, supporting half of his weight. “Did something happen while I was out?” He prompts, a line appearing between his brows. “Did your mum call again?”

The mention of his mother lets Louis snap out of it, he blinks his dry eyes and rubs below his nose.  _ Did something happen while I was out? _ Louis repeats the words in his mind and finds them for some reason ludicrous. Maybe it’s the relief or the tension that bottled up inside him that lets him bark out a sudden laugh, surprising himself and Harry, whose eyes widen perplexed as Louis bows his head, shoulders shaking with each sound that leaves his lips. He’s going insane, that’s what’s happening, he is sure of it. He feels like crying but he laughs, the sound hysterical even to his own ears. 

It’s a mental breakdown, that’s what it’s called, that’s what he is experiencing right this second because wow, his mind is a nasty place, letting him believe into the lies it fed him all day long. 

“Jesus Christ.” He wheezes, wiping away the tears that escaped his eyes and sniffs loudly, feeling choked up. He sobs only once, but it sets Harry in motion. He is by Louis’ side in a blink of an eye, pulling him into a hug and rubbing his back, while Louis tries to get his breathing under control. His hiccup is broken by another high sob and then he inhales the sense of Harry’s cologne and all of his emotions die, the knot in his stomach untangles itself and his shoulders sag forward. “I’m sorry.” He chuckles, “I just—” 

Harry draws his head back so he can look at Louis’ face. Softly, he wipes Louis’ tears off his cheeks and lifts his eyebrows in question. “Should I be worried?” 

_ Yes _ . 

“No,” Louis murmurs, glancing over Harry’s shoulder and spotting Lara in the doorway. He looks back at Harry, concentrating on the green eyes that are filled with so much concern that Louis feels bad. “I was worried about you.” He finally admits, “I thought…” He doesn’t know how to end the sentence without sounding even more like he lost his mind, so he lets it hang between them. 

Harry searches in his eyes, gaze flickering from one to the other and Louis suppresses the urge to look away, to flinch and curl in on himself. He feels too exposed under the low lighting of the kitchen. 

Lara clears her throat, awkwardly. “Maybe I should go home?” 

“I’m just being overly dramatic.” Louis talks over her, forces a wobbly smile on his face, “You should be used to it by now.” 

There is an awkward beat of silence, all of them know this isn’t Louis being his usual dramatic self, it’s more, but no one voices their thoughts out loud and Louis is relieved Harry lets it slip as he kisses the top of Louis’ hair. 

Lara sends him a look and shakes her head, rolling her eyes and huffing before shuffling into the living room. 

Harry sucks his bottom lip in his mouth, wetting it and releasing it with a wet sound. “Alright.” He drawls, slowly, “I’m gonna shower and then take a nap. If I’m not up at eight, wake me otherwise I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” He smiles, holding back a yawn and kissing Louis’ cheek. On the way out, he stops, turning to Louis once more and he cocking an eyebrow, “or, do you wanna join me?” 

“No, he doesn’t!” Lara calls, “I’m still here, I need attention and I can’t be the only one who’s sexually frustrated, so, shoo go shower. Louis stays with me.” 

Harry and Louis look at each other with quirked eyebrows. It’s good, Lara is perfect because she’s able to get rid of the weirdness that had settled over them and Louis is so grateful for that. 

Louis grins, cupping his mouth, “If you don’t want a show, then you better go home ‘cos I’m gonna suck Harry’s dick right in the kitchen!”

Harry erupts in scandalised laughter, jaw slack. “Oh no you don’t!” He exclaims, waggling his finger.

Louis pouts exaggerated, “but why?” 

“Because—” Harry is cut off by Lara. 

“Because I actually would enjoy a show!” 

Now, Louis is the one with the dropped jaw. 

Harry shrugs, waving his hand in a ‘ _ see, told you’ _ manner. “I’ll go have a wank then.” Harry calls to Lara, but his eyes stay on Louis, a smug expression appears on his face. “Thinking about you.” He mouths at him and winks, hand cupping his crotch. 

Both of them ignore Lara’s loud exclaimed _‘ugh, gross’._

Louis licks his lips, all his blood rushing down, filling his own cock in record time. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat and Harry smirks.

“Are you getting it on in the kitchen?” Lara calls, ruining the moment and they break out of their staring contest. 

Louis shakes his head. Harry lets up from his groin and with another heated look Louis’ way, he leaves the kitchen saying something to Lara that’s too quiet for Louis to pick up over the ringing in his ears. 

Glancing down, he sighs at the bulge in his trousers, seems like Harry won’t be the only one who’ll wank, actually…Louis could join him in the shower now, come to think of it. 

His attempt to follow up to the bathroom is stopped by Lara who looks all too knowing and displeased with the idea and pats the cushions next to her. 

No, Louis takes it back, Lara is anything but perfect, he isn’t grateful for her presence at all. He wants her gone — now. She’s the devil in person. 

“Lou, you’re not going anywhere, hun.” She smirks, “C’mere sit down.” 

“Actually,” Louis says, shuffling backwards in direction of the stairs as she narrows her eyes, “I’m a bit warm, eh? Gonna change out of the jacket and—” He gulps, the corner of his mouth twitches, “Y’know, just…feeling a bit hot.” 

“Oh, yeah, I can see that.” However, before she can say more and keep him longer trapped in the living room, he turns, dashing up the stairs and jogging down the hallway, already hearing the rush of water coming from the bathroom. Louis yanks the door to the bedroom open, already fumbling with the zipper of his jeans and pulling the shirt over his head, he nearly runs into the bathroom door in his hast.

Stumbling, he turns the handle. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Louis growls pushing the curtain to the side.

Harry lets out a laugh that’s just too pleased and without a word he cups Louis’ nape of his neck, surging forward and sealing their lips, getting Louis’ jeans wet in the progress.

“Get in here.” Harry murmurs when they part, cheeks already flushed a pretty ruby red.

Louis loses his trousers, stepping in the bathtub and moaning when Harry is on him not a second later, pressing him against the cold wall hands fisting in Louis’ hair. It all feels more desperate than usual, both let out needy whines as their cocks slide together. 

“Missed you.” Louis mumbles, swallowing and blinking against the spray of water that’s splattering on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Hm, waited all day to get you alone,” Harry replies, hooded eyes lock with Louis’.“and then I come home and Lara is still here.”

“Shh.” Louis presses his index to Harry’s lips, “No talk about the devil while we do very sexual things to each other.”

Harry snorts, kissing Louis’ finger before lifting it off his lips so he can speak. “The devil, huh?” He croaks, “Hm, that’s good news, because I’m about to sin.” He rolls his hips and Louis moans.

“You’re my favourite sin, baby.” Louis plants an open mouthed kiss on Harry’s jutted collarbone, hand sliding down his waist and digging into the soft flesh of Harry’s love handles.

Harry takes a sharp inhale and hisses when Louis takes both of their cocks in one hand. Harry drops his forehead on Louis’ shoulder, whimpering low and needy. “C’mon, then.” He pants. Louis takes Harry’s chin in his hand and before their lips meet, their mouths already part, their tongues slot together and a roll of undying want rolls down Louis’ spine.

And, who would Louis be if he didn’t take Harry up on the challenges that’s clear in his deep voice and cuts Harry’s chuckle off when he does just that.

 

*    *    *

 

They find Lara buried under a blanket perched on the sofa. The living room is set in nearly darkness and the only source of light is coming from the flicker of the telly, the end credits of a movie rolling accompanied by the soft tune of the  soundtrack. 

Apparently time flies by when one sins and the early evening turned into night while they were in the shower until the water ran cold and set a damper on continuing another round of blowies and sloppy handjobs. They chose to take a short nap and ended up dozing off for half an hour, exhausted, boneless and tangled in each other under the covers. They had totally forgotten about Lara until now.

“Look, our child is sleeping.” Louis coos.

“M’older than you.” Lara mumbles.

“Nooo, you woke up Satan.” Harry groans playfully, swatting Louis’ shoulder in passing.

Lara crosses her arms, pouting. “That’s what you guys did upstairs? Coming up with new terms what to call me?”

Louis snorts, “Trust me, little one, that wasn’t what we were doing.”

“I don’t want to know what you guys were up to.”

“But you wanted to watch us sucking each other off just a couple of hours ago!” Harry reminds her, raising his voice to be heard from the kitchen.

Chuckling, Louis lifts her legs off the coffee table so he can pass through the slot and sit next to her. She coddles the blanket to her chest, frowning like a grumpy cat. “Go away, you just had sex, that’s disgusting.” 

“I also showered.” Louis says, tugging on the blanket. She holds it more tightly, and he pouts.

“While having sex.” Lara replies stubbornly, sticking out her tongue at him.“So that doesn’t count, you probably were cleaner before your shower.”

Louis bobs his head, rubbing his chin as he pretends to consider it and she groans, kicking at his feet. He hooks her foot, swinging them freely. “Leave me be, you twat. You’re mean again. I don’t want you.” Lara grumbles, withdrawing her legs. “Harry can have you.”

“Already got him.” Harry replies with a cheeky smile, walking in the living room and balancing a tray with three streamy mugs and a plate of biscuits. He puts it down on the table, planting himself on Louis’ side and throwing his arm on the sofa rest, tugging on Lara’s hair playfully.

“Louis, Harry’s being mean. I don’t want him.” She repeats, putting on her best pouting voice and trying to get Harry’s finger out of her hair.  

“You’re awfully whiny for a not-child.” Louis chirps happily, joining in messing up Lara’s hair. He ruffles it and when he gets a kick to his thigh, he catches her leg. “Harry quick, I got the devil, fetch the cross and holy water!” He whisper-shouts over his shoulder, grinning widely at Lara who glares at him.  

“I’m on my period.” Lara says, “I got cramps and mood swings—”

Louis lets up from her in mock-shock and clutches his chest. “Oh no she really is the devil now.”

“I need a shoulder to cry on, chocolate, painkillers…” She pauses, taking in their unimpressed expressions, then carries on, “Lou be a darling, please hand me a tampon, it’s in my purse.”

“You’re aware of the fact that we both grew up in a household with sisters, right?” Harry asks, patting Lara’s head.  

“Damn…” She sighs, dropping the act and slipping back into her sullen mood just like that.

Louis shares a confused glance with Harry. He lifts his brows and Harry shrugs, both concerned about Lara’s weird behaviour. It comes back to Louis and he heaves a sigh of his own.

“It’s about Ivy isn’t it?” He asks, lowering himself on the cushions and throwing one of his legs over Harry’s thigh.  

There is a long pause and Louis guesses he won’t get an answer, but then she mutters a quiet ‘yeah’ under her breath and Louis tucks her under his arm, cooing in her hair.

“What was it about this time?” Harry asks, head resting on Louis’ shoulder.e cranes his neck to peek at Lara.

“It’s actually good news.” She says flatly, waving a hand around and dropping it in her lap. “She’s coming over to talk or…whatever.”

“What’s the catch?” Louis wonders out loud, draping his other arm around Harry and starting to play with the curls at Harry’s nape absently whilst he eyes Lara.

“I don’t even know if I wanna see her?” She whispers and it comes across as question, though her closed off body language indicates it’s really more of a fact. “Can you fall out of love?” She adds, now almost toneless.

“Of course.” Louis answers, feeling Harry stiffen under his arm. “I mean otherwise everyone would stay together and live happily ever after, innit?”

“That’s not love then,” She says simply, “I think if it’s real you wouldn’t just…fall out of it.”

Harry clears his throat, “So, you’re not in love with Ivana anymore?” 

“I miss her, but I’m tired of it.” 

“For how long have you guys been together?” Louis never asked, he realises.

“Uh, two years?” Lara frowns, “Maybe a bit more? Dunno…” 

“You…don’t know?” Harry drawls.

“Is it important?” Lara asks, defensive. “What does it matter?” 

“I mean…that’s what anniversaries are for, right? To celebrate the day you got together…” Louis’ forehead twitches with concern and confusion. He can tell by the way Harry’s hand on his thigh presses down that the feeling is mutual and both are worried about their friend. 

“Lara,” Harry draws his head out of Louis’ neck, leaving the spot oddly cold. Louis bites his lip not to pout at the loss. “I know when you guys got together. I know the day you first told me about her.” 

Lara looks away, pulling out of their cuddle and adjusting herself so she’s angled away from them. “Well, you guys don’t have to grill me, I understood. You’re in love and I’m not.” 

It's Louis’ turn to tense now, because, yeah…well, he  _ is _ in love, so much it  _ hurts _ , so much he’s spent the  _ entire _ day in a bubble of anxiety and worry, ready to explode. It brings it all back and although it wasn’t meant as a reminder, it is. He doesn’t dare to risk a glance at Harry, to calm his fluttering heart he stretches forward, getting the plate of treats and holding it under Lara’s nose.

“Take one or two, that’ll make it better, darling.”

“I don’t like food.”

“You’re a shit liar, Lara.”

She groans, taking one and nibbling at it. “S’good.” She says, addressing Harry behind Louis’ back, mouth full and crumbs tickling on the blanket.

“Yeah…” Harry says, absently reaching for one himself. “Bought them fresh from the bakery, they were still warm.”

Lara relaxes, “Alright…” She says, swallowing the last bite and serving herself another one. “I think I know what to do.” Lara says, eyeing the treat in her hand before breaking it in half.

“What would that be?” Louis humours her, putting as much wonder in his voice as he can muster. She throws a piece at him.

“This is  _ serious matter, _ Lou.” She rolls her eyes, huffing annoyed.

“All right, all good.” Louis chuckles, relaxing his muscles, crossing his ankles and folding his hands on his stomach. “Fine. Go on. Do tell.”

“Oh you’ll like this one, Lou.” She chirps, “You know the recipe.”

Louis frowns, “Recipe?”

“Are we still talking about you and Ivana?” Harry asks.

“Oh yeah,” Lara says, “we are. Sorry I thought Louis is smart enough to get it, apparently not.”

“Hey…” Louis pouts. Harry chuckles beside him and Louis snuggles more to his side. Harry tucks him close by instinct, blowing a raspberry kiss on Louis’ neck. He giggles, head twitching uncontrolled downwards to get away from the tickling.

“Stop being cute and disgusting.” Lara groans, “The recipe is, of course, coke? How many times did we—” Louis doesn’t catch the end of Lara’s sentence, he doesn’t have to. He knows exactly what she’s saying. His pulse sits in his forehead, pounding loudly enough to tune every other noise out.

Louis isn’t breathing when Harry pulls away from him. Louis isn’t breathing when Harry straightens his position. Louis still isn’t breathing when Harry stares at him in utter disbelief. Louis stares at him in return, eyes wide with shock, vision blurring slowly at the edges.

“What?” Harry drawls slowly.

Apparently, Lara caught on and noticed she made a mistake. Her mouth shuts with an audible click, not that Louis can spare her much attention when he can’t even feel his toes, legs, or hands.

He wants to turn into a bird right there and fly out of the window. He wants to become one with the cushions or transform into fog. Maybe he’s not there at all, anyway, maybe his soul left his body. Louis thinks he’s still not breathing.

This…is his worst nightmare come true. Harry’s stare fixes him on the stop and it breaks his heart, it breaks for Harry and himself and them. Because, yes Louis is in love and it aches. All his plans to tell Harry the truth, all the practiced speeches set aflame right in front of his eyes.

“Louis.”

Hearing his name he shakes into action, heaves a big shaky inhale and closes his eyes briefly to get rid of the tightness in his throat. “I…” He starts, swallowing, “Harry…I…” He stammers, shifting so they are face to face.

Harry sets his jaw, the sharpest point sticking out with the force he uses to grind his teeth together.

“I…” Louis starts over but nothing more comes out of his mouth, his tongue too heavy, his mouth too dry, his brain too blank. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how turn the situation around. Perhaps, it’s too late, and looking at Harry, something more than his heart breaks, maybe it’s his entire spiritual being.

Harry clicks his tongue and nods to himself, poking the top of his tongue in the inside of his cheek. He exhales shuddery and…turns away from Louis, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs and head hanging low, his slender fingers run through his curls as he quickly inhales.

“Harry…” Louis reaches out, hand hovering just above Harry’s shoulder. Harry lifts his head and sends him a glare that destroys the last of the courage Louis had.

“I am…an…idiot.” Harry says slowly, his voice cracking at the end. He shakes his head. “For how long?” He asks, looking ahead at the telly.

When Louis doesn’t answer, he shoots up from his seat, swirling around to face Louis. “For how long Louis?” He repeats, then huffs, “The whole time, isn’t it? And I’m-… _ God _ !” He groans ruffling his hair in frustration. “I am the biggest fool on this bloody earth. You…” He points a finger at Louis, but the words never leave his lips, instead a sob comes out. “You used me.” He says then and, it…stings. It stings so bad that Louis gets, finally,  _ finally _ into motion it brings him out of shock and onto his wobbly feet.

“ _ No _ .” He says, voice firm but breathy. “No, no. Harry, no,  _ never _ I—” Louis bites his tongue.

“You, what? Louis.  _ What _ ?”

Louis looks down at his feet, shoulders sagging in defeat. Harry clicks his tongue again, the noise echoing in Louis’ brain and bones. Out of the corner of his eyes he notices a movement. Neither of them react when the front door slams shut.

“I wanted to tell you.” Louis whispers finally. “I never wanted you to find out this way.”

Harry snorts and crosses his arms, puffing out his chest, “That you stole from me? That you went behind my back and lied to my face more times than not?”

Louis bites his lip.

“Why is that?” Harry asks, throwing a hand in the air, “Because you’re bored, Lou?” He says in a taunting voice, “because you’re trapped in this house like it’s your cage?” He snorts in disgust, shaking his head.

Louis frowns at the words, he’s pretty sure he said that to…

“You heard…” Louis blinks, lips part in utter disbelief, “You were listening in to my convo with Niall?”

Harry swallows, looking heavenward before his wet eyes find his. “I did.” He says with an inhale to calm himself, “I tried to make you feel welcome in my home, I gave you keys and trusted you with so many parts of myself I have never shown to anyone and you…” His voice breaks, and he averts his eyes to the ground, shoulders trembling as he starts crying.

Louis yearns to comfort but knows he isn't allowed, and it would destroy him if Harry flinches from his touch. He stays put. His own tears spill over and he sniffs loudly. “It’s not you nor your house that make me feel this way…it’s…it’s the situation.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Louis shivers at the cold voice, “my…my own.”

“All I wanted is for you to be happy and safe.” Harry says, flatly.

“I am…Harry, I am happy and safe.” He takes a daring step closer, “When I’m with you.”

“That’s still not enough, is it?” Harry’s bottom lip wobbles as more tears wet his cheeks.

Louis rubs a hand across his face, swallowing around the lump in his throat that’s threatening to choke him.

“You’re so angry sometimes, act so out of character…” Harry brittles, “I…how…” He stops himself to breathe, “I…should’ve known.”

Louis closes his eyes waiting for the words that will end it, end him...them.

They don’t come, however, and when Louis opens his eyes again Harry’s features are devoid of any fight, any anger, any… _ emotions _ really. He looks blank, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Somehow, it's worse.

Louis rounds the table until he’s standing right in front of Harry. “All I can say is, that I am truly sorry. I wanted to tell you, yesterday, today, tomorrow.” He starts with a quiet voice, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Absently he notices it’s Harry’s and he lets up from it. “I never meant to hurt you, I hate lying to you, I didn't want to but—”

“You still did, though.”

“Yeah, I did…because…” He swallows, “You’re out there every day and I sit home worried to death and can't do any-”

“Don’t you bloody dare to turn this on me,” Harry warns with a low voice.

“I’m not, I’m not.” Louis says quickly, lifting his palms. “I’m just…I can’t…”  _ stand my own thoughts, I can’t deal with them alone _ , he doesn’t say it out loud, hoping the message will get transferred through his eyes. “I don’t know what to say other than you’re the most important person to me and I…”  _ love you so bloody much _ . He can’t say that either, not now at least, Harry wouldn’t believe him. Also Harry deserves more than the words said in a fight. “I tried.” He murmurs, “I will try again…”

The following silence is piercing to his ears as Harry’s eyes take in Louis’ face. Harry's blank expression and the cold shine of his eyes causes Louis’ stomach to turn then drop.

“Please say something?”

Harry takes a step back.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek as Harry ruffles his hair and turns his back on Louis. He walks towards the hallway and Louis holds his breath. “Are you...are you leaving?” He panics as there is rustling. He doesn't want Harry to have to run away from his own home - if one of them is leaving, it's him. He stumbles as he tries to get to Harry and in his haste almost collides with Harry as he returns. He trips in attempt to catch himself and sways on the spot.

“That's what you want right?” Harry asks, Louis doesn't understand what he means until something is thrown at his chest. It falls to the ground with a soft thud and when Louis frowns at it, his blood runs ice cold. “Take it then, eh?”

Looking up, Louis grits his teeth. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”  

Harry sobs and tosses another pack at Louis. “C’mon, Lou.” He says in challenge, though his voice is thin. “Lets get fucking high, yeah? Lets fucking  _ do it _ , Lou.”

Louis closes his eyes, feels his face crumbling as he tries not to let the sob escape that's scratching in his throat, fresh tears stinging behind his shut lids. “Don't be unfair.” He whimpers pathetically. It all feels so much like a deja vu, like they are going in a circle. They had a similar fight the day Louis met Anne. They came so far and now...

“I told you, I'm here for you. I thought the fact that you can fucking trust me is obvious! I don't  _ understand _ …” Harry inhales. Louis can't look at him. “I just  _ don't _ . After the party...I was so bloody proud when...but…but.”

When Louis blinks at him through a blurry vision, Harry is standing with hunched shoulders, folding in on himself, “but,” he picks up again, “all the while you got high anyway. If you would've told me…” He hiccups, “I don't know, I could have helped you, I would've stayed home or - I don't know.” He angles his head back in his neck, “I thought we were  _ partners _ .”

“We are, Haz.” Louis whispers, “please don't leave me.” It slipped out just like that and he wishes he would've swallowed the words down. He sounds truly pathetic now, a scum begging not to be abandoned though he deserves it because Harry deserves someone better. Not someone that lies and steals and - Louis knows all that, he fucking  _ knows _ . He can change also. He can be better like he had promised himself many times before. He will try again. It'll be hard, but he'll manage. Or, maybe...perhaps, it's already too late now, maybe Harry finally realised how truly fucked up Louis is and doesn't want Louis anymore, no matter if he would get clean or not. After all, Louis had lied and abused Harry's trust in him.

“I’ll take the couch tonight.” Harry says, instead of answering or replying to any of what Louis said. “I need some space to think things over.”

“Please let us talk this out.” Louis begs, sniffing. “I want to talk to you about it, please lemme explain-”

“Goodnight Louis.” Harry sighs exhausted. “I'm done fighting with you, I don't want to yell at you anymore, I hate it.”

“No, please.” Louis says determined, taking another step towards Harry. “Then - I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed, it’s yours…” _ And I can’t sleep in it without you when I know you’re just down the stairs _ , he finishes in his mind. He fucking hates his mind. Goddamnit, he hates himself even more.

Harry clenches his hand to a fist. “Okay.” He doesn’t look at Louis a last time before walking up the stairs, and when Louis hears the slamming of the bedroom door, the last bit of energy leaves Louis’ shaking bones. He crumbles.

Dropping to his knees, he ignores the packs of coke that seem to mock him. He puts his face in his open, palms shaking. A sob wracks his frame, and another causes his shoulders to tremble until his upper body is left with nothing but heavy, endless pain. He sags sideways, head hitting the floor with a bang. Curling in on himself, he sobs and cries, shaking with each sound that leaves his parted lips.

The only noises in the house are the late night ads from the telly and the cracking of Louis' heart breaking over and over again.

Louis ruined the only good thing in his life and that’s his fault all alone.

 

*   *   * 

 

Harry hasn’t left his bedroom since the previous night. Louis sits on the sofa, leg jiggling with nerves and every time he hears a noise coming from upstairs he jumps to his feet holding his breath, only for his shoulders to sag in disappointment. 

Yesterday, after he got himself to move again, he put the coke under a pillow so he wouldn’t have to see it anymore, after he stared holes through it. The craving is there, of course, it always is. Especially in situations that hurt, coke was his escape. This time around the yearning to be with Harry and clean the mess he’s made is infinitely stronger, having the upper hand over Louis' mind and he thinks, he'd rather  _ die _ than do lines ever again. It has ruined too much in his excuse of a life. 

However, as the midday breaks to afternoon Louis gets the hint, he is not welcome in this house anymore. Harry needs his space and Louis has to do more than stare at a black screen, all while biting his already metallic tasting lips. He doesn't know why, but he recalls his mother telling him just two days ago that he was overstaying his welcome. It's ironic how things could change so quickly and he hates to admit that, maybe his mother was right this time around. He made Harry so uncomfortable in his own bloody home that he's hiding out in his bedroom - maybe he's waiting for Louis to leave even. And, if that's not Louis cue to go, then he doesn't know what it is. 

He pulls on his shoes with a dreadful knot in his stomach. All his shit is still upstairs, and it’s actually a lot since he’s been living here since weeks. But there is no way in hell for him to walk up there and get it, so he chooses to leave it behind. Also, Louis couldn’t stomach the cold face Harry would give him, if Louis explained why he exactly needed his duffle bag. No, this way, he doesn’t have to see the approval in Harry’s face for his decision to leave. With that in mind, he shuts the front door behind him, not daring to take in the living room like it's the last time. 

They both need time, is what Louis tells himself as he trots along the pavement, three cigarettes down and hands trembling. Louis has no idea where he’s going until he looks up and finds himself in front of the little modern house. The blinds are shut and though Lottie’s car is parked in the driveway, it looks oddly lifeless. He glances to his left, seeing his neighbours’ house and looking away quickly, when he sees her standing on the kitchen window, curiously peeking out. He doesn’t want to think about the day they broke into her house, the day they were desperate for each other and were caught by Niall at the end. Louis remembers thinking, back then, it was living hell, but now it's one of his favourite memories, one of those he still can have a laugh with Harry about it; one of those memories Niall loves to bring up whenever he gets the chance to, with a good amount of humoured mischief. Today, seeing the house hurts and a voice reminds him, he might have lost that kind of lightness and it'll stay a memory about the first boy Louis fell in love with.

He dares another glance, then Louis heaves a sigh, and his gaze cuts to Lottie’s house. A house he was supposed to live in. It doesn’t feel like home, not even with the knowledge that his sister is just behind those walls, watching a movie or preparing supper, or maybe she’s taking a nap? However, he’s uncertain if he’s still a welcomed guest there, just like at Harry’s home, a nagging feeling in his gut tells him, he isn’t.

Although there is a spell that makes each step feel much heavier when he walks towards the stairs, he knows he has no other choice, innit? Where else is there to go? Lara fled out of the house when the fight erupted and Liam is too far away. Neither of them has a car, so there is no way Liam could pick him up, also isn’t he with his family? Whatever. Lottie is his only choice, the only person left he can trust.

Drawing his shoulders to his ears, he prepares himself for the fight that is expecting him inside. The mocking thought of sleeping in a field is lurking into his mind and he frowns it away. He still can sleep in the dirt if his sister really does send him away, but he hopes she will not.  

Louis knocks though he has his own set of keys. It would be weird using them after ignoring his sister for more than two weeks or something.

There are muffled footsteps coming his way and he holds his breath when the door swings open with such a force that wind blows in his face.

“Louis!” Lottie exclaims, eyebrows shooting to her hairline. Then she schools her perplexed expression into something softer and a small smile steals itself on her lips. “Come in.” She makes a hand gesture with her words and Louis does just that, wordlessly stepping inside the house and following Lottie into the living room, his feet shuffling awkwardly on the spot when she sits on the sofa.

“Where is Tommy?” He asks with a hoarse voice, scratching his throat with his index absently. Lottie points at the ceiling, signalling Tommy is asleep. He nods slowly.

There is a long stretched silence between them, Louis glancing around the room, avoiding Lottie’s open stare. However when their eyes meet, her gaze becomes more pointed and a sad tilt tugs on the corner of her mouth. She parts her lips but no words come out. Then, after what felt like minutes, she takes a large inhale and blows the air out of her nose.  

“Where have you been?” Louis has no idea how many times that very same question came out of Lottie’s mouth. On any other day, Louis would feel guilt at her sad tone, but today, all he can do is clench his hand to a fist, because — everything is a tad numb at this point. There is a knot in his stomach that won’t disappear until he sorted everything out with Harry. Louis, apparently took too long to answer, because a moment later, Lottie speaks up again, her voice more stern now, “Sit. Spill.”

Louis clicks his tongue, a tad annoyed for being ordered around like a bloody child, but sits on the cushions nonetheless. Pick your battles and all that. Ruffling his hair, he crosses his legs, resting his ankle on the other kneecap. He wipes his foot up and down nervously.

Glancing at his sister, he licks his dry lips, unsure. “I was…with—”  _ lie, lie, lie, _ Louis’ mind chants, he clears his throat. “Harry.”

_ That wasn't a lie _ , his mind groans.

“Harry?” Her eyebrow arches, while the other dips lower. She looks hilarious and Louis would chuckle at the expression if Louis wouldn’t be so nervous about her reaction. “Who’s Harry now?”

“Uh, Harold? Remember, the guy I went on a date with? His actual name’s Harry, so…” He trails off, eyes flittering awkwardly at the coffee table, then back to her.

Lottie pouts her lips, shrugs, and releases a sigh, “I called mum.” She changes the topic, picking at her nail to avoid direct eye contact.

“I know.”

“How?” She asks, raising her head to frown at him.

“Because, Lottie, she called me.” He leans against the sofa, foot now wiggling so fast at the ankle that it’s manic by now. “And,” He continues, after a pause, “I was stupid enough to pick up.” He rolls his eyes at himself, still cursing his bloody self for not checking the caller ID. He can’t help but glare at her now, that it comes back to him why he was itchy all Sunday long, “Why the hell did you tell on me? What were you thinking?” She should have known better, seriously.

She opens and closes her mouth but no words are spoken. Then, she swallows, shifting her weight and dragging her feet over the floor. It’s a nervous habit of hers, he knows, has seen it too many times already to know that she’s scared to say whatever the reason is. “I…it was a slip…I didn’t mean to,” Lottie pulls a face, “I was caught off guard…she was really angry with me and…” She shrugs with a sigh. “I’m sorry…” She looks at him open and sincere, truly sorry.

“Why was she angry?” Louis blinks confused. “At you, of all people? You’re the golden child, Lots. She kisses your arse. She worships you!” He sits up more straight, turning his upper body towards her.

Lottie snorts, rolling her piercing blue eyes. “Nah, you used to be the golden one in the family, I was unimportant until she had enough of you.”

“That is…not true.” Louis frowns deeply.  

“It is, and you know it. It’s not your fault, but…” She swallows thickly, blinking her lashes like she’s trying to hold back tears. “If I ever was the golden child, I’m that no more, either I guess… ”

“What? How? No way, that is impossible.” Louis shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and twisting it.

She looks away, then back at him.

“Tell me.” He prompts more forcibly this time.

“Don’t…say anything okay? Just…listen.” Louis nods at her plead and she inhales deeply, “I quit my job a week ago.”

“What?” Louis exclaims, his eyes bulge out of his head. “You love your job!”

She puffs out her cheeks in annoyance, “I said listen, so. Shut up.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at her hard tone and sits back again. “Alright, go on.” He nods, waving an impatient hand around.

“I hate my job. I hated my job. Seeing people so unhappy all the time makes me want to hide under a blanket and never come out again.” She rips at a loose strand of her shirt, rolling it between her fingers and flickering it away. “I fucking hate delivering bad news, I hate it.” Lottie shakes her low hung head, “I don’t care that it’s good money. Money isn’t everything.”

Louis stays silent, mind blank, at a loss for words at best. He might be gaping at her like a fish.

“So, I quit.” She says with a shrugs.

“And you told mum,” he finishes for her with a monotone voice.

Lottie gives a tiny nod, “And I told mum,” She repeats equally flatly, “stupid me.”

“Stupid us.” Louis corrects.

“She’ll come for a visit, she said, trying to talk me out of quitting.” She snorts. “Couldn’t come by all year but—” She cuts herself off, both well knowing what she leaves out. Louis pats her thigh in comforting manner. “Tommy is on my side.” She adds, after a pause. “He said he’ll support me no matter what and I’m so thankful.”

Louis allows himself a smile at that., His brother-in-law is pretty awesome.

“Anyway, I’ve no idea what to do, she made me question everything all over again.” Lottie huffs, crossing and uncrossing her arms before she settles her hands in her lap. Her eyes are downcast, like she’s ashamed. Louis can’t have that, his mother controlling not only him but his sister? Nope, never, he won’t let their mother take over.

“Lottie, if that job makes you unhappy, don’t do it. It doesn’t matter what that witch says.” Lottie snorts at the name, and Louis’ smile grows stronger. “I have no idea what to do either okay? But giving in to her is no option. We both…we’re old enough, innit?”

Lottie nods, biting her lip, “I’m scared. What if I’ll regret it in ten years?”

“What if, you’ll be the happiest in your life in ten years? Doing whatever you’ll be doing then.” Louis shrugs easily, stretching his arms above his head before folding them over his chest.

Lottie laughs wetly, clearing her throat as she sits more upright. “You know what will be there in ten years though? For sure?”

Louis smiles confusedly, “A…dog?”

Lottie laughs again, “Maybe, possibly.” She scoots closer to Louis taking his hand in hers and he looks at her with wide eyes when she places it on her tummy.

His glance flickers from his hand up to her face and back, “No…way,” he breathes out slowly, “no fucking way, you’re shitting me.”

Lottie shakes her head, blonde hair falling into her eyes as she laughs lightly like she can’t believe it either, which she probably can’t. “You gonna be an uncle.” Lottie says in the sweetest voice, her smile matching the gentleness.

The first genuine grin of the day splits Louis' face and he doesn’t think twice before tackling his sister into a hug, laughing into her neck as she hugs him back just as tightly. They cling at each other, swaying in place a little.

“Oh my god!” He laughs, breathless and stunned. “Oh my god!”

“I can’t believe it myself.” She giggles as they let up from one another and Louis pokes her tummy in fascination.

“There is a little human in there,” he says in awe, eyes big. “Hi baby, don’t you worry, your mummy is gonna be the best one in the world, ya hear me?”

Lottie giggles, slapping his finger.

“I’m so happy for you,” He says, feeling his eyes sting with tears, “I am…” he doesn’t end his sentence, just pulls her into another embrace. “Lottie…” He sighs, “this is wonderful.”

“I haven’t told mum,” Lottie says, sitting back and crossing her legs under her bum. “I won’t until I can’t hide it anymore.”

Remembering how their mum took all the control of Lottie’s last pregnancy, Louis thinks it’s for the best. He nods in approval, sobering up.

They smile at each other, then Lottie narrows her eyes at him and Louis suppresses the urge to squirm on the cushions.

“Now, please tell me more about Harry,” She raises her brows, seriousness colouring her face, though her eyes still sparkle full of happiness.

Louis feels really bad to take that moment away from them, he’ll ruin it the moment he opens his mouth. “His…his name is Harry…— Harry Styles?” He swallows, “Uh, he lives in Macclesfield, too. Dunno…” Louis starts, risking a careful glance in her unreadable face. She just blinks. “He’s really great…I—” He snaps his mouth shut, looking down at his feet and biting the tip of his tongue. It stings talking about Harry, when he might be not even a part of Louis’ life anymore.

Lottie sighs, “So, you’ve been living with him the whole time?”

Louis nods, drawing his lower lip in his mouth, chewing on it nervously.

“I know Harry, he’s a nice boy.” Lottie smiles sadly.

“W-what?” Louis almost shoots out of his seat. Then he remembers that Harry said a long while back that he knew Lottie and Louis almost just assumed they met at the bakery or on the street. But by the look Lottie is giving, it’s not any of the thoughts he had. There is more to it and that’s what keeps him on the cushions. He clenches his fist to ground himself.

“I know his mother, you know?” Louis’ blood runs cold and he can’t do more than look at her with an agape mouth. She closes her eyes briefly. “Remember when Tommy and I said we were going on vacation? I went to therapy because I…was really…depressed,” she licks her lips, eyes staring at the ceiling. “I met her there. Anne is lovely.” 

Louis gets a headache with all the information he has to take in. It’s a lot to stomach. He might even vomit, though he hasn’t had a bite all day. He knew Lottie was depressed, but what he didn’t know was how bad it actually was. His heart twists with sadness for his sister, Tommy, Anne, and Harry. There is just so much pain and it hurts, it hurts and he wants to hug his sister but then —

“I know he sells drugs.” Lottie admits quietly and Louis is overcome with a hot wave of fear. He blinks rapidly, trying to process the words, trying to get a grip, so he can talk himself out of it because he knows she knows and that…Louis' life flashes in front of him as she looks at him with sudden coldness in her blue eyes.

“H-how d-do…do…” Louis splutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. His throat itches with sickness.

“I know because he offered me. I said no. Obviously,” She rolls her eyes at him, before narrowing them at him. “I guess you’re taking drugs, still?”

His mind chimes in with a fairytale of lies, that it’s all just a coincidence and Louis, of course never knew Harry sells drugs,  _ what? That’s news _ ,  _ Lottie. _ But only one look in her face is enough to know, it’s utterly useless. Louis nods once, slowly in defeat, eyes downcast.

“Is that why you’re hanging with him?”

Louis shakes his head. The lump in his throat might choke him. He might die on his sister’s couch today.

“I can’t even be mad at you. God!” She rolls her eyes again, probably getting a good glimpse of her own brain.

“Why?” Louis frowns, voice raspy.

“Because I know it’s hard to stop. You’re a trouble-magnet, little brother, I’m not surprised you took the first chance you got to get high, it’s normal.” She waves her hand around like it’s all obvious. “And with that, Louis, I give you two options.” She sits upright, facing him fully.

He swallows. His heart flatlines. His lungs stop working.

“You’re going back to London, in rehab this time.” She pins him with a glare, as he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re an addict, you cannot get away from this on your own.”

At her words, he sets his jaw. “What…What is the second option?”

She smacks her lips together, “You go to the institution Anne is at, and get help there.”

Louis can’t help but bark a short laugh in her taken aback face. No way — just, no way in hell he’s going to be living in that institution that keeps Anne hostage. One of the doctors there has the upper hand over Harry’s and Anne’s lives. Lottie doesn’t know that, of course, and she won’t ever find out, that’s for sure but that very option is so bizarre to his ears, it sets another wave of sadness and anger free.

“Louis.” She says, threatening, “This isn’t funny.” Oh, oh Louis is aware it’s not. Louis knows how unfunny it is, Louis wants to cry and crawl to a corner and never see light again. He misses Harry. “There is another option, you could live here and see a doctor for therapy. We have a list at the hospital, I can get it for you, I know some pretty good—”

He holds his palm up and she snaps her mouth shut, narrowing her eyes even more at him. She clicks her tongue, and Louis knows she’s getting angry with him now. She’s losing patience, as is her right to do so, of course. “Louis, if you say you wanna stay with Harry, it’s not safe and I won’t let you do that. He sells the shit for a living!”

Louis huffs, folding his arms across his chest defensively. “Harry wants me to stop, we had a fight about it just last night.” He grits out, “He’s so much better than I am, Lottie if—”

“How ironic,” She snorts, interrupting him, “the dealer doesn’t want you to take drugs.”

Louis pulls a grimace. “Yes, I know, hilarious,” He hisses, “he doesn’t take any either.”

“Obviously, imagine if he took drugs, he wouldn’t sell any and owe all his bosses a shit load of money, c’mon.” Lottie gestures wildly with her hands.

Louis opens his mouth but then frowns. He had never thought about that.

She tilts her head to the side, taking his silence as cue to continue their conversation. “So, little brother, what’d you say?”

“I’m not going back to London.” Louis croaks, “I can’t live with mum, I just…can’t, never again.”

She nods, urging him on.

“But I don’t want to go to rehab here, either.” He swallows, he could never do this. When she opens her mouth, he silences her with his held up palm. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, and you will.” Her brows knit together in anger.

“Or what? You gonna tell mum?” Louis says with a mocking voice, bobbing his head side to side and widening his eyes.

Lottie’s jaw sets and fumes with her hair. “You’re going to be an uncle in nine months.” She grits out, balling her hands to fists in her lap, “I don’t want an addict around my child.”

And, wow, that…hurts. It hurts like a physical punch in his guts and he flinches. His chest heaves as a fresh hotness overcomes his body and Louis jumps to his feet.

“I get that. Maybe I won’t be around then, anyway.” He only says the words because the look on Lottie’s face is matching his own. Good.

“You’re a twat!” She says, getting to her feet, too. “You wouldn’t want an addict around your child either.”

“I’m not a fucking addict.” He barks at her, making her flinch, “Yes, I do lines sometimes, but so do a lot of bloody people, this is not a problem, okay? Don’t make it bigger than it actually is.” He hisses his last sentence, feeling like a dog being chased in the corner. No way out.  

“So stop.” Lottie says with a high pitched voice, arms waving around in frustration.

“I…” the reply dies on his fuzzy tongue.

“That’s what I thought,” Lottie crosses her arms, glowering at him. “Go back to your drug dealer, Louis.”

“You’re kicking me out?” He gulps.

“Yep,” Lottie nods curtly, shoving at his chest, “I can’t even talk to you, you’re not listening nor opening up. You don’t talk to me. I can help you, but you won’t let me.”

Louis catches her hands, as she tries to push him again. “I…I’m trying Lottie! I didn’t take any in the past…days, I…” He inhales deeply, “I’m trying okay? I want to become better, I just—” Can’t.  _ Harry isn’t talking to me, I don’t know what to do. I’m helpless. _ She shoves at him again.

“Hell you’re trying! Just look at you, you’re a ghost Louis! Get the fuck out of my house.” Lottie yells, ripping her hands out of his hold and shoving him again. “I’m done with you.” There is fire in the blue of her wet eyes. And he burns alive.

“You don’t mean that,” Louis whispers, hurt. Tears sting behind his eyeballs. “C’mon, I love you Lots, don’t do this. I’m your brother.”

“Think about what I’ve said, or else, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

Louis grinds his teeth together, anchoring himself. Anger takes the upper hand strangling the hurt until it dies and all he can feel is fiery.

“What a fucking joke of a family!” He spits with a snarl. “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, too.”

Lottie opens her mouth to reply but he doesn’t wait for her to speak words of agreement and turns, stumbling a bit in his haste to get out of the fucking house. His version blurs as he trips and catches himself in the last second on the door handle. He rattles it, his hands shaking so badly that he doesn’t get it open on the first try and makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat as he hears footsteps following him. Before Lottie can tell him more of what a major fuck-up he is, he slams the door behind him with a bang and is out in the cold once more without anywhere to go.

Louis curses the English weather as a shiver wracks his frame and he rubs his arms.

It starts raining a second later, fat drops falling onto his cheeks, mixing with the salt of his tears and he thinks, well, he deserves all of this. He deserves feeling like shit and hearing all the things Lottie said…he deserves the cold shoulder Harry is giving him. Louis never said he was a good person — his soul is as black as his lungs from the amount of cigarettes he’s smoked.

That’s what happens when people start thinking better of you: they get disappointed. He warned them, he had shown every single one of them his true face and it’s their own fault they got burned. It’s just his cursed luck he lost the most important people in his life on the same fucking day. The gods above are having a proper laugh at him probably, pointing at him and whispering between each other more ideas how to turn his life more upside down by the second.

He stops once he has brought a safe distance between him and…his sister, or…whatever she is now. Getting out his pack of cigs, he lights one with shaking hands and, just like to get the door to open, it takes him a couple of tries to light it up in the rain. When he finally does, he inhales the nicotine, grateful to have something that fills him up, when all he is, is empty. Maybe he left his heart at Lottie’s doorstep without noticing.

Louis passes the diner, avoiding looking inside, knowing full well that it’s Niall’s shift and right now he can’t stomach another disappointed face. He lets his head hang low, telling himself it’s because of the wind as he picks up speed until he finds himself in the centre of town. A car honks and startles him. There aren’t a lot of people outside, and those who are carry umbrellas, eyes fixed on the pavement to get out of the miserable weather as soon as possible.

He takes the last drag of his fag as he stumbles across the road toward the bus stop and without another thought, he hops onto the platform. It all is a tad robotic now, just walking down the rows and finding an empty seat. If Louis has to sleep on the streets tonight, he can do that anywhere.

The woman across from him looks up from her book, when he draws his knees to his chest, folding in on himself as good as he can manage. Louis closes his eyes, pressing his forehead on his thighs and sniffing quietly.

It’s cold on the bus, there is a breeze directly coming from above him and goosebumps raise on his arms, though he’s wearing a jacket. The AC should be turned off, seriously.

As the bus starts driving, exhaustion crashes over him. His life has turned to an even bigger disaster since yesterday and all he wants is to sleep the emptiness away. He rubs his running nose on his sleeve and rolls his head to the side, his cheeks smashed against his legs while his eyes take in the blur of the houses the bus passes, when he gets a glimpse of his reflection in the window, he shuts his lids.

“Love, where do you have to get off?” A voice asks, startling him a long while later. The woman who was reading smiles apologetically at him. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to scare you, but we’re at the train station? Just in case you need to get off here.”

“Oh,” Louis frowns, placing his feet back on the floor. “Thank you.” He forces a polite smile on his face before making the decision without second guesses and gets up. Louis leaves the bus with a bunch of other travellers. The woman is swallowed by the crowd that huddles outside, waiting for their turn to get onto the bus.

Louis ambles inside the train station, blinking through heavy lidded eyes that feel puffy and probably are dark rimmed. He must look like a zombie, just going through the motions by autopilot.

Numb from head to toe, he buys a ticket to London. With a swallow, he finds himself on the right platform, looking up at the display that shows he has to wait another half an hour for the train to roll in.

It takes him two inhales to get his phone out of his pocket, playing with it but chooses against the idea to throw it in the nearest bin. Instead, he unlocks it and doesn’t know what he wants to do until he taps on Zayn’s contact. With a shaky exhale, he bows his head, staring at his feet as he brings his phone to his ear, listening to the rings that echo in his blank mind.

There is a rustling sound and Louis frowns, maybe the connection isn’t strong enough to get through but then —

“Louis! Thanks fuck!” Zayn exclaims, like he was waiting for Louis to call. Louis frown deepens and he picks at his lower lip. “Mate, Lou — where are you?”

Stepping to the side as a man hurries past him, he hums deep in his throat. “Uhm, what?” He blinks at the spit out gum next to his shoe.

“Everyone is freaking out. Liam called me…he said Harry can’t find you and is losing his mind? What happened? Where are you?” Zayn rushes, and Louis thinks absently, he has never heard Zayn talk so fast and rushed. He sounds panicked, but Louis doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t understand a lot of things at this point. His brain still not processing anything at all.

“Why would Harry want to find me?” Louis settles on saying.

“Are— are you serious?” Zayn groans like Louis is the biggest idiot on earth, and he might be right. “Louis, you’re so bloody smart but — I can’t even with you! Where are you? What happened?”

Louis opens his mouth but he never gets a chance to answer.  

There are two guys walking towards him, one he knows for sure, the second…well he is too hung up on the first one to take in the second guy.

Adrenaline sets his body under electricity and he turns on his heels, winding through a bunch of people trying to get to their train, he shoves a man out of the way, hearing yells being called for his rude behaviour. Louis' ears hear nothing but a rushing sound.

Heavy footsteps are following him as he looks for the bloody exit, the green little light gives him a hint and he dares to sneak a glance back. He wishes he didn’t, because they are…close, really close. Louis pushes himself faster, his legs and lungs burning. He swears under his breath as cold sweat starts to pool in his neck.

Louis shoves the door open and breathes in the fresh air, that his lunges crave so desperately. He is in the parking lot of the train station, and well, there are a lot of cars but no exit, at least Louis can’t make out a sign or a gap or whatever. So he wastes no more time checking left and right, since his life is on the line.

Hide and Seek has always been his favourite game, so he runs to the nearest car and dukes down, just when the door swings open and he hears Hawk grunt.  

“Louis!” He sneers, “We know you’re here.”

Louis shuts his eyes, knees stinging from the way he's crouched on the ground. 

“Louis?” Says a voice muffled, “Hello? What hap—” He ends the call. For once in his life, Zayn can’t help him. He’s too far away for that. Louis is all alone in this. 

Footsteps come near him and Louis shoots up to a stand. For a long moment Hawk and Louis just stare at each other, sizing one another up. Hawk is too perplexed by Louis popping out of nowhere and Louis is too frozen to get his legs to work. Then Hawk shakes himself out of it, growling, his eyes flash with anger. He launches himself at Louis but misses him just by an inch and Louis makes the best out of it, spinning around, speeding between cars, sidestepping an oblivious woman carrying a duffle bag. There, right in front of his eyes is the exit, he can taste freedom. f he gets that far he can make it across the street and hide somewhere, lose them in the hustle of cars and people. A car pulls into a parking space behind him, cutting Hawk off and Louis uses his chance, his feet work harder…

Louis is thrown back by his shoulders, strong hands gripping his bones like he’s a bloody doll and he hits the pavement with a pained  _ ‘Ohhfffh’ _ , all air is knocked out of his body as he tries to see more than black and white dots in his vision. The pain in the back of his head is pulsing, needling in his neck and he gasps helplessly. 

“Finally,” Hawk grunts, hovering over him, he presses his knee in Louis’ chest, shaking his shoulders, he repeats, “Finally.” 

Louis whimpers like a fucking dog being kicked, and coughs. “Hawk,” Louis chokes, “Hawk, hi.” Louis goes for a smile. It ends up as a painful grimace. 

“Shut the hell up! I’ve been waiting for this since forever!” Hawk barks, shaking his shoulders violently. Louis’ head bangs on the pavement with the force of it all. When Hawk stops, Louis' head rolls from side to side, there is no strengths left in his neck to keep his head straight. 

“This isn’t the best time, mate.” Louis grits out through the burning, his teeth grind together to bear the throbbing ache. “It’s really not—” 

He squeaks in shock as two strong hands strangle him, cut off all the air and it fucking burns. He can hear nothing but his pulse. Panic takes over his body and he kicks out his legs with a choked sob, his hands trying to loosen the death grip Hawk’s got on his neck and throat. It’s not bloody working and Louis’ lips start to feel numb, there is a weird tingling feeling on his forehead. His eyelashes flutter shut.

Then the hands are gone and Louis swallows, sucks, catches all the air he can get, yapping like a fish on land, he coughs harshly, feeling the blood floating back into his brain. He rubs his neck, too weak to do anything but give Hawk a dark glare, which  probably is not really intimidating. 

Hawk is still as ugly as he remembers. There is the burn-wound Louis gave him from their last run-in. The knee still pressing in his chest holds him on the spot and Louis can’t feel anything other than numbness at this point. Hawk spits in his face, right beneath his eye and Louis can’t even lift his hand to wipe it away.

It’s his true end, Louis knows when Hawk glowers at him. Relief fills his chest that it all comes to the finish line. He’s got nothing to lose, no one left behind, nowhere to go, no future, only memories that are burned in his mind forever. Death sounds like a way out of it, out of the misery and that gives him courage to do the last push himself. 

A manic smile overcomes his features. “You goin’ to—” He coughs harshly, his throat raw like sandpaper, “kill me?” It costs all of his last bit of energy to bring the words out. He’s lightheaded, somehow floating. 

The knife digging into his Adam’s apple is probably answer enough. 

There is a scream and Louis can’t remember screaming, his ears still ring but then the words make it to him and it’s not him that lets out the high panicked scream. “Oh my God! Somebody help!” A woman’s voice yells, Louis wishes she would shut up and just mind her own business before it actually becomes her business. She doesn’t listen to Louis’ silent advice and calls out, “Somebody help!” 

Hawk’s expression turns sour and he nods to his left, probably where his sidekick is standing and then the woman screams some more until she’s cut off by —

Louis can imagine and hopes it stays that: a picture in his head — not actual reality.

He sniffs wetly and brings Hawks attention back on him. Hawk’s lips twitch in delight.

“Awh, are you crying, Louis?” Hawk coos taunting. “Look at you, Tommo is crying. Not so strong anymore now, are you?” The knife cuts a bit into his skin and Louis hisses in pain. “Where’s Zayn? Not here to safe your arse, eh?”

“Not going to kill me, are you?” Louis pushes, the weight on his chest is enormous, unbearable and when Louis blinks up at Hawk, the bloke has two heads, Louis doesn’t know where to look.

“That’s the plan.”

If Louis wasn’t at the edge of life, he’d snort at that. “You came all…” he gasps, pulling through all the pain to get the words out, “all that way,” fucking shit, talking without air is not his favourite thing, it’s bloody hard, “from London…” Louis isn’t able to finish, his chest tries to rise but the weight of Hawk’s knee won’t let it.

“Can you repeat that?” Hawk grins, “I think I didn’t get it.”

“You’re stupid,” Louis presses out, “that's why.”

The grin is replaced by an ugly sneer, “Wow, I’m impressed, Tomlinson, even when you’re about to die you waste your words to be a little shit.”

“S’my…charm,” Louis bares his teeth, “go’n kill…me.”

Nothing happens for a second, Hawk just looks at him, then he chuckles. “As you wish.” And with that he draws his arm backwards, building a tight first and before Louis knows what’s happening, there is a lot of pain blooming on his jaw.

And he falls into complete blackness, an odd numbness sets over his bones and before he loses all sense, he imagines evergreen eyes and curly hair and weirdly, this is the moment where he realises that he never will get a chance to tell Harry, he’s in love with him.

 

***    *    ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked it!* 
> 
> thanks for reading, until next week, since it all should be back to normal now!! xx


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY MONDAY!! RIGHT ON TIME THIS WEEK! :) 
> 
> I am totally giddy about your reactions about chapter 16!! It really warms my heart that you guys like it so much! It's so motivating and makes me smile for the rest of the week hahaha, SO a massive thank you to everyone who left a comment and kudos and is reading my story! 
> 
> I don't know if you guys are interested in this, but I put together a little playlist for cfb, you can listen to it here -
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/6btx2fqcfx0fcce1348l62a13/playlist/6aQlKEJUQ7E4pnJpvVPDH1 
> 
> or, click on the link in the chapter. 
> 
> ANYWAY, ENJOY READING!! :) x

**[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/6btx2fqcfx0fcce1348l62a13/playlist/6aQlKEJUQ7E4pnJpvVPDH1) **

 

***    *    ***

 

 

 

Funnily enough, Louis thinks of his mum as his mind flows through the never ending darkness.

He thinks of her cold smile, her cold eyes, and her cold skin. Cold is the best word to describe her, honestly. She is selfish, but also very forward, goal-oriented, determined to do anything in her power to reach the end of the long road. It’s an admirable characteristic, if you think about it. When she has something in her mind, she mostly gets it at the end, no matter what it is. That’s why she’s such a successful business woman. She’d leave in the morning to be the first at the company and she’d be the last one to return home.

Louis thinks of the conversation held between her and Mark, his step-dad. How coldly she spoke to him at times, how she’d make him sleep in the guest room some nights.

While it all sounds like she’s a strong independent woman, she wasn’t always like that. Louis remembers her crying a lot, when he was little. Crying her dead husband's name at night and overworking herself during the day.

Jay couldn’t look Louis in the eye and she never saw any of his footie games, always pretending to be too busy. Mark was there though, and he told Louis how proud he was, how proud Jay was, when Louis’ team scored and won.

There is a shift in his mind, his focus is pulled towards his sister, and he remembers when Lottie met Tommy. How happy she was, talking nonstop about the brown-haired guy, her eyes brighter than all the stars put together.

He remembers his first time watching porn and puking after, because it disgusted him how animalistic it had been. He had sworn to himself at the age of twelve that he would never have sex.

Louis can’t say he is sad to have broken his own promise.

He remembers the first time he pissed some drug dealer off, shouted, ‘hey, gimme some coke you fucking loser, it’s your bloody job, innit?’ in the middle of the streets and he wonders to this day, why they didn’t kill him there and then. Sure, they pushed him against a wall and yeah, they took everything he’d had on him, and of course left a pretty bruise on his jaw, but most importantly they didn’t kill him. Just ran away like the chickens they were, leaving him laying on the ground and staring at the black sky with half-shut eyes and a manic smile on his blood smeared lips.

It was the first night he lost his stupidity virginity.

He got a kick out of it. Drugs, random sex, violence.

Sometimes he’d fight back, but never enough to put damage to any of those meaty guys. They all were so much bigger than him - their arms the size of his thigh, one of their hands double his own. He never stood a chance. The only luck he’s had was that none of them actually dared to kill anyone, and those who were going for it were stopped by Zayn.

Because of that little bit of luck, Louis got to live a bit longer. So long that he ended up in Macclesfield.

Louis thinks of Harry, because Harry is the moon. He’s seen all of his parts and Louis never got the chance to really try to be better for him. Now, Louis won’t ever get the chance to tell Harry he’s in love with him. He wants to run away with him, make it all work. It’s too late.

Louis will never get the chance to hold Lottie’s baby, doesn’t even know what name has his sister in mind to call her little angel.

Louis will never know what happened to Nick, if he ever got out of debt.

Louis is about to die, the darkness pulling at him, dragging him down into the pits of burning lava hell. He deserves it, he deserves to be burned alive, to feel the pain, to remember everything too clearly.

He’s been a little shit, to everyone, really. Just because he lost the way and ambled paths he shouldn’t have, pretending he knew what he was doing whilst he was just looking for some sort of reaction to fill the void in his body.

Hopefully Satan won’t treat him too bad, he’s got nothing but a burned soul.

As his mind floats through space, random faces appear and disappear. Random people he has seen once in his life to the most important persons in his life. His head hurts with confusion at each passing face until it starts to swirl, swirl, swirl - until it all comes to a sudden stop and Louis falls.

It’s a long, endless fall - bottomless.   

After all, hell is far below, hence, Louis can’t say he is much surprised that it takes so long for him to reach the flames...or a gate...or a door with a welcoming mat.

Then, there is a crash, a bang and before he blacks out in the black-out he is already in, he thinks about fairytales and how he won’t ever know any of their ends either.

He will never have the chance to spin his own fairytale with Harry.

 

*   *   *

 

Louis is diving underwater. His arms push him forward and his feet sway behind him, bringing him closer and closer to the surface. He is almost there, he can practically taste the air.

There are voices above too. He can hear them, but can’t make out words.

His lungs burn with the lack of oxygen and his limbs start to feel heavy but he pushes through the ache, willing his legs to work faster. He’s almost there.

The glittering sun shining through the water gives him hope, gets him to row his arms in wider circles.

Then he stretches one arm, while the other sways at his side to keep him afloat, and the tips of his fingers break through the surface letting him feel the cold air licking on his hand.

Suddenly there is a tug on one of his feet, and he’s dragged down again, a silent scream ripped from his throat as an invisible power holds onto him. He kicks at it but it doesn't do much. All he can do is glance desperately at the surface as the water rushes past him. He's in a bubble of little bubbles that tickle his skin and then his body gives out, his mind draws a blank and he clenches his eyes shut, weak and numb.

 

*   *   *

 

Their shit is packed in three large duffle bags, Harry’s eyes are hidden behind shiny ray bans aviators, as he smacks his gum loudly.

“Are you ready?” He asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” Louis grins toothily, though he has no idea where they are going. The only thing that pushes him to say the words is the fact that Harry is here with him. Louis doesn’t know how they got here, can't recall driving to the train station or buying any tickets. Harry, however, lights up, genuine happiness colouring his face. Louis wishes he could see his eyes, but all he gets a glimpse of is his own reflection.

Still, Louis doesn’t question it when they hop onto the train. He trusts Harry completely. Nothing can happen when they are together. They are partners, a team.

Harry takes his hand, lacing their fingers together as they make their way through the grey corridor. There isn’t a display hung up to inform Louis what their direction is, what time it is, or what train station they even are at.

They walk until they reach the far end, sitting down on blue seats that are meant for bike riders. Louis doesn’t question that either, just snuggles close to Harry’s side and smiles when Harry doesn’t hesitate to drape an arm around Louis’ shoulder. There is a longing in Louis’ bones he can’t place, like he misses Harry, though he doesn’t understand why that is, since Harry is right next to him. He even smells the strong cologne and feels Harry’s body heat.

The view they have out of the window opposite of them is amazing. It's nothing like Louis has ever seen before, a bright green blur as the train picks up speed, leaving the station. Another beam of light mixes with it. It’s blue and the colours swirl until they are one.

Purple.

It’s beautiful and just when Louis wants to voice that very thought out loud, there is a ringing in his ears, piercing, and he snaps his mouth shut in confusion.

“What is going on? Where are we going?” He asks over the rustling. The ear-piercing ring gets louder the faster the transport goes.  

Looking at Harry, he doesn’t seem too concerned about any of it. He smacks his gum and puts his sunglasses on top of his mop of hair, then blows the gum and pops it, the sound swallows by the rush. He stretches his legs, looking right at home on that weird train. Harry shrugs one shoulder and tugs on Louis’ hair in a playful manner. “Where ya wanna go, baby?”

“Home.” Louis whispers, almost toneless. His ears pop at the same time as Harry’s white gum and his throat burns with the need for something cool to drink, his mouth cottony and dry.

“Where is home, Lou?” Harry asks, smile wiped off his face.

“Wherever you are, Harry.”

“I like that,” Harry says, smile returning on his plump lips, and this time it’s so much softer. “I like that a lot.” He kisses Louis’ temple, mouth lingering on the spot and Louis' lashes flutter shut, enjoying the contact so much he feels like crying.

“Me too,” Louis says, opening his eyes again but before he gets a chance to say more, say the words ‘ _I love you_ ’, the noises of the train become unbearable, to such a loud volume that Louis has to press his palms against his ears, scared he actually will become deaf from it.

Glancing at Harry, he sees the confusion clouding on his face that pangs in his own chest. Louis closes his eyes, cursing under his breath. Then, the weight of Harry’s warm arm is gone and when he blinks his lids open, Louis is his only company.

“No…” He whimpers, jumping to his feet in panic. “Harry? Fuck! Where are you?” He calls, swaying in place to gain a more steady stand. His mind swirls just like the colours outside.

There is a voice saying something, but Louis isn’t sure what because the ringing still sits heavy in his ears. He holds his breath, listening in more carefully.

It’s Harry, Louis knows, he could identify that voice anywhere.

“Louis!” His voice comes from above and he rolls his head around his neck, staring at the ceiling. His stomach twists in nausea. “Louis, baby, come back to me, please!”

Louis really wants to point out that Harry is the one who left _him_ , not the other way around but his main concern is to figure out what’s going on.

“Where are you? How can I come back?” He asks, voice raised to be heard over the volume of the loud rush that licks at his body. Fuck this train, what kind of train is so bloody ear-splitting?

“Please!” Is all he can make out and then the train gives a tug, like someone stepped on the brake by accident and he loses balance, landing on his bum so fast, he doesn’t realise he’s on the floor until he stares at the ceiling, his version blurry.

He has to get off this bloody train — now.

With pain in his bones, he gets on his knees, crawling over the grey, cold floor. He doesn’t get far, however, the driver of this train is an idiot apparently because the transport shoots forward and then backwards, like someone is playing tug-of-war with it and Louis loses hold, falling to his side and hitting his head on a metallic pole. He hisses in pain.

“Don’t leave me.” He hears Harry whimper over the sound of flowing blood.

“I won’t!” Louis whispers, rolling on his back. All energy leaves his body. There is a burning around his throat, his neck. His skin feels like it’s set on fire. “Harry, help me.” He cries out.

He never gets an answer. His vision darkens and he takes one last inhale before everything turns to black again.

_Fucking bloody shit._

 

*   *  *

 

“What is happening?” Louis groans, he keeps his eyes shut, scared of what he’ll see if he opens them. “Make it stop.”

Louis is done with diving, being reunited with Harry just to be left alone on a weird arse train not a moment later. Traveling through a hurtful memory line wasn’t fun either and mourning about all the things he misses or he’ll miss while the others’ lives goes on was hard enough as it is. Now, all Louis wants is finding peace.

“Open your eyes.”

“No.” He pouts stubbornly.

“Louis, open your eyes.”

He obeys after a second, blinking against light that threatens to blind him, then he closes them again, moaning at the brightness. Louis actually prefers the darkness, always has. Harry is his moon after all, the only source of lightness he needs.

There is a chuckle and then hands grip his shoulders, “C’mon, you can do it, Lou.”

His lashes flutter and he’s met with a pair hazel brown eyes staring at him. He tries to sit up but the hands on his shoulders keep him in place.

“Zayn?” Louis grunts, disoriented. “What the hell is happening?”

Zayn leans back, batting his long eyelashes prettily. It reminds Louis of a butterfly. And a butterfly reminds him on Harry — he sighs wistfully.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Zayn says eventually. “I thought you wanted to leave your old self behind.”

“I was trying.”

“Was?” Zayn lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. He looks pretty unimpressed in general. Not as confused as Louis about what is happening or where they are. Louis wishes he had Zayn’s never-ending patience.

“I am trying,” Louis corrects, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “But I don’t know what is happening and I miss Harry. Where's Harry?”

Zayn chuckles, lightning a goddamn cigarette.

“Harry is right here.” He says, shaking his head and inhaling the fume with a hiss. “You’re not though.” Shrugging he picks at his nail, then takes another drag of the fag.

Louis eyes him for a moment, wary. Maybe Zayn is the confused one of the two, considering he just stated Harry is here which isn’t true; they are alone. “Gimme a cigarette.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but hands him one nonetheless, lighting it. Louis inhales the smoke gratefully, relieved to have something to focus on.

“Am I dead?” He voices his biggest fear, exhaling out of his nose.

“Do you want to be dead?”

“Is this what death feels like?”

“What does death feel like?” Zayn raises his eyebrows lazily.

“Are you going to ask every one of my questions back at me?”

“Probably,” Zayn huffs, sitting more upright in the armchair.

“Where am I?”

Zayn grins mischievously. “I don’t know.”

They glance around. It’s just a white room, an armchair, and a bed — Nothing else. It’s a white space.

That…is not really calming, like…at all.

“What happened?” Louis whimpers, flicking the ash. It stays floating in the air, and Louis pointedly ignores it. “I want Harry.”

“Sorry,” Zayn laughs, ruffling his quiff. “I’d rather be with Liam, too.”

“Right.”

They smile at each other for another moment.

“What is that noise?” Louis asks, hearing a beep sound above them.

“Louis, I have literally no answers.” Zayn rolls his beautiful eyes, unfazed by Louis’ confusion and no help at all. “It’s your head. So tell me.”

Louis closes his eyes.

“Don’t give up.” Zayn pipes up. It’s the first time there is emotion in his voice and it sounds a whole load like fear.

“I won’t…”

“Open your eyes.” Zayn orders, but the words are coming from afar.

Louis blinks them open again just to realise Zayn is gone.

The edge of his mind blurs, and he grips the sheets as the universe around him starts spinning.

“Not again!” He cries in panic. “Please, no!”

Louis’ version becomes a blur.

“Fuck.”

And everything is empty blackness once more.

 

*   *   *

 

“I’m not going to open my goddamn eyes, I’m done with whatever is happening.”

There is no answer.

“Fuck you, Zayn.” He grits out, but there still is no reply.

He opens his eyes and he wishes he hadn’t.

There is nothing…as in, everything is black and he can’t see a thing.

“Great.” he mutters, his voice echoing back at him in a more quiet ‘ _great, great, great..._ ’

“Fuck you!” He yells, just to try it out and a shouted ‘fuck you’ comes right back at him, four times, five…then it ebbs out into a humming sound.

He pauses, pursing his lips. “Suck my dick!”

He giggles when it echoes.

Louis sighs into the dark.

This is it, that’s how he’ll spend his entirety. He thought hell would be more fun.

 

*  *  *

 

There are lights dancing behind his closed eyes, sparkling dots mixed with white and black. He can’t open his eyes, but he feels oddly hot. A rainbow of colours explodes, drops of purple, red, pink, blue and green pop up and Louis wants to keep this. This feels somehow safe.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes and stare into nothing but darkness, he doesn’t want to be underwater anymore. Louis takes a grand inhale, and he actually can feel his lungs stretch with the air that’s filling them.

His mouth is like cotton, his throat hurts when he swallows and he coughs.

“Oh my god,” a deep voice whispers, “Louis? Louis can you hear me?”

There is hot breath fanning over his face; it smells like coffee.

He’s scared to open his eyes.

“Louis,” the voice whimpers, “c’mon, open those pretty eyes of yours.”

Whatever this is, wherever he is, Louis isn’t ready to face it. Though he yearns for the person the voice belongs to, he doesn’t want to lose him in a blur of purple another time around.

Louis doesn’t fight against the darkness, he lets it swallow him completely. The lights dim down and he exhales slowly, relaxing his numb limbs in relief when his brain shuts down.

 

*  *  *

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants, panting, “Not again.”

“Wow, thanks, mate.” Zayn erupts into laughter. Arsehole. “I’m flattered by your reaction. But, this is ya doing, babe.”  

“I didn’t do anything.” Louis protests weakly, eyes shut tight. He doesn’t need to open them again to see Zayn’s grin, he can hear those pretty lips stretch. It’s a bit unnerving how quiet it is in that space they are in.

“C’mon mate, you were almost there and then you pulled back, what are you scared of?”

“Where?” Louis asks, sighing. “This game is stupid. I want out.”

“It’s no game.” Zayn tuts his disapproval. “There are a lot of people waiting for you.”

“To kill me?” Louis groans.

Zayn chuckles, the sound washes over Louis, calms him down.

“No, you dumb fuck. They are waiting for you to be ready to return to them.”

“Return to where? Who are those people?”

“You know all the answers.” Zayn says.

“I don’t.” Louis snorts. “I don’t know shit, mate.”

“You’ve always been a liar,” Zayn sighs, “you never could fool me, though.”

“Yeah your tolerance to bullshit is nonexistent.”

They share a moment of laughter.

“So you’re going back or what?” Zayn asks into the silence of nowhere.

“No…Yes?” Louis feels his face wrinkle in confusion, fear and sadness pang in his chest.

“It’s a yes, man, c’mon. You’ve been gone for too long. Everyone is so worried.”

Louis ignores Zayn’s last sentence. If he wanted to come across as mysterious, he succeeded. That fucker. “Is there food? Because I’m starving.” Louis whines, and his stomach growls at the thought of a good meal.

“There is food.” Zayn confirms, “Plus, you’re in the need of a shower, mate.”

“Geez, why thank you, Zaynie.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t be a chicken, eh?”

“Great, I want chicken wings, now.” Louis groans, and Zayn chuckles, “And maybe a cigarette.”

“All you have to do is open your goddamn eyes.” Zayn’s voice is far away again. “Open, your, eyes.”

 

* * *

 

Louis opens his eyes.

What he sees is not a never-ending white or black space, there is no damn train or water, Zayn’s eyes aren’t what he looks at. There aren’t any colours, there isn’t any blur. Nothing is spinning though he has to blink a couple of times to get clear vision.

Instead of it all, Louis is staring at a grey ceiling, patterned in squares. There is a beeping noise coming from his left and sun is shining through a dusty window.

All in all, it's a relief, so to say.

This is the realest of all dreams, Louis thinks, feeling pain along his jaw, as he opens his mouth. Shutting it again, he groans through his nose, and the noise seems to bring action into the whole thing. There is rustling, footsteps and then a figure is hovering over him. He closes his eyes before he can make out a face. This is safer, greeting death while you see nothing, right? Maybe he can pull himself out of it, like he’s done before.

“Don’t.” A deep and so familiar voice whimpers. “Don’t leave me again.”

Blinking his lashes open, he sees an unbelievable green, like the ocean on a stormy day, when you stand calves deep in the water and try really hard to see the ground. That’s what those eyes look like.

“Hi,” Harry says, smiling softly.

“Is this real?” Louis asks, at least he thinks he says it because his words are slurred together. He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat, feeling it hurt like a rope is being tied around his neck.

“Here, here, wait.” Harry hushes, holding a red straw to Louis' lips, “It’s water, drink.”

Louis takes the straw into his mouth, taking the smallest of sips. He coughs and Harry gets the straw out of his mouth.

“I’ll call the nurse.” He announces, an odd mixture of panic and happiness coloured on his face, like he doesn't know which emotion to give into.

“There are nurses in hell?” Louis presses out. He tries to sit up, but his arms are too weak. They are no help. Useless.

“Nurses in hell?” Harry asks amused, “Louis, this is real. You are awake, finally.” He sighs the last word.

“For how long was I out?” Louis croaks.

“Uh, about...three months?” Harry arches his brows, “You got a full beard now.”

“Three… _three months?_ ” Louis blinks, panic fluttering in his chest, making the beeping sound speeding up.

“Oh shit,” Harry breathes, “no, no I’m sorry, it was a stupid joke.”

“Right the comedian you are,” Louis rolls his eyes lightly, but it makes his mind spin and his headache increases. “Can I try the water again?”

“Yes, yeah,” Harry fumbles, getting the straw between Louis' teeth.

Louis sucks the water down his throat without coughing this time, and it feels so good. Refreshing. Harry looks so good, too. His hair could be a shelter for birds, all wild and tangled, like he hasn’t brushed it in days, and his cheeks are ashen and hollow, his eyes circled with dark rings. He is a masterpiece. Beautiful. Chaotic.

Louis has to be dreaming, still.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, fingers carefully reaching out to brush Louis' fringe off his forehead. He smiles, dimple carving his cheek. “Hi,” He murmurs again.

“Hi,” Louis echoes. The smile on his lips feels strange, like he’s just relearning how to use his lips to form a simple smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” Louis blinks, frowning. “I guess this is not a dream?”

Harry chuckles, “Did you have a lot of them?”

Louis scrunches his face, ignoring the pain and the question. “What happened?”

Harry sighs avoiding Louis' eyes, “Let's call the nurse first.”

The nurse is a pretty blonde girl, in the middle of her twenties, grey eyes scanning whatever that machine is called, that makes the beeping sound, before turning towards him with a warm smile. Louis should know the name, since his own sister was a doctor and all. Heart-monitor? Yeah, let’s go with that.

“Welcome back,” She says, her voice soothing like she’s talking to a child at the first day of school. “How are you feeling, Louis?”

He goes for a shrug, and the sheets under his shoulders rustle with the movement. Her smile widens, two rows of shiny white yet crooked teeth revealed. “You slept for three days.” She says, a little flashlight in her hand, holding it to his eyes, and he suppresses the urge to close his lids.

“Three days?” He repeats, “Yeah, I think I needed that sleep.” He jokes, it falls flat when Harry makes a little hurt sound.

The nurse chuckles. “I could use some more sleep, too.” She plays along and Louis decides he likes her.

“So what happened?” He asks again, the last thing he can remember is talking to Zayn on the phone, or maybe it was just a dream? He recalls running and panic but...that has to be a made up image that his brain came up with whilst he was asleep, right?

She clicks a pen twice before scribbling down on a clipboard.

“You were rushed to the hospital with a concussion, that was caused by your head hitting the pavement, your jaw hurts because they punched you pretty hard - it’s a wonder it wasn’t broken by the force of it.” She smiles slightly, sad. “They strangled you, that should explain the pain in your throat and on your neck. Because they strangled you for so long, your brain didn’t get enough blood.” She wrinkles her nose, “There, you were lucky again because strangulation can cause permanent brain damage. Which is not the case with you.” She heaves a sigh like explaining the situation to him exhausted her, “You’ve got a minor stab wound on your throat where the blade dug in, I’m afraid to say that it’ll leave a scar.”

“That sounds fun…” Louis muses, “brain damage, concussion. This is _just_ my cup of tea.”

“Louis…” Harry hisses from his chair across the room, his brows knit together.

“Sorry,”

Harry rolls his eyes.

The nurse chuckles again. “I’ll let Tommy know you’re awake. He’s on the clock.”

“Thank you, love.” Louis says earnestly, “What’s your name?”

“Oh, how rude of me, I’m Belle.” She touches his arm in favour of shaking his hand. He's grateful for that, his limbs still too weak for any movement.

“Thank you, Belle.” He says again. Her mouth twitches with amusement.

“I’ll be back in half an hour to give you some more pills for the pain, alright?” With that she floats out of the room.

Louis sighs tiredly, outstretching his limp hand towards Harry. He smiles and sits back on the bed, taking Louis' cold hand in both of his warm ones. Louis' skin tingles.

“I’m sorry.” Harry says, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry I was a dick to you.”

“I…what?” Louis blinks.

“I just needed time…to think? And I should’ve told you, we should’ve talked it out so this.” He nods towards The Beeper That Makes Louis' Head Pound Slash Possibly Called Heart-Monitor. “Wouldn’t’ve happened.”

“Bullshit,” Louis scoffs, “I was so stupid for…just leave without saying a word, also I should've been honest with you.”

Harry shrugs, “Guess we’re both pretty stupid.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why?”

“Because…the drugs?”

Harry shakes his head rapidly. “I was mad at you but…I can’t like blame you fully for it. I should’ve been there for you, babe. Should've known better than to think...” he bites his lip, “I knew something was off.”

Louis wants to reply, but then the door swings open, banging against the wall, making Louis and Harry jump a bit in union.

“ _Louis_!” Lottie exclaims, cheeks rosy and eyes glossy. “You’re awake!”

Louis blinks, can’t really progress what’s happening when he’s got two arms full of Lottie on his chest. He coughs when she squeezes him and she lets up a moment later, big eyes searching his face.

“Sorry, oh fuck, I’m sorry.” Lottie rambles, hands roaming over his arms like she's scared she somehow broke him in half.

“It’s fine.” He laughs quietly, making eye contact with Harry over her shoulder. Harry grins and winks then he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Louis frowns for a second, then his attention is brought back to Lottie, as she squeezes his arm softly.

“How are you?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, both hands taking one of Louis’.

“Felt better,” Louis sighs, “I’ve got a headache.”

“You need more to drink, why isn’t there a bottle of water?” She frowns, “I’ll get the nurse. They need to take better care of you.” She tries to pull her hand away, but Louis grips it a bit tighter.

“Calm down, Lots.” He mumbles, “It’s all okay, yeah? Don’t…don’t stress yourself.” His eyes wander to her stomach that’s hidden beneath an oversized jumper which, by the look of it, it must be Tommy’s.

She exhales a long, hot breath fanning over his face, then her shoulders slump.

“You’re right.” Lottie says, “You look like utter shit.”

“Gee, thanks, lovely.” Louis rolls his eyes in mock offence. “I woke up like…thirty minutes ago, excuse me for not getting all pretty for your arrival.”

Lottie boxes his shoulder gently, the tears in her eyes spilling over.

“I’m sorry, infinitely.” She sniffs wetly. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said, I shouldn’t have thrown you out like that!” Her eyes widen before they clench shut, more tears running down her cheeks. “I’m such a failure as a sister.” Lottie sobs, “I’m never there for you!”

Oh Jesus, Louis' eyes widen.

“I’m so, so sorry, Louis please you have to.” She inhales shakily, “You have to…know that.”

Louis feels a lump bit in his throat. “I’m sorry, too.” He whispers, feeling his own tears wet his cheeks. “I’m not as much of a good brother, either.” He draws her into his chest, ignoring all the pain as she buries her face into his neck. He rubs her back gently, as she lets out sob after sob after sob.

“I’m sorry,” she weeps straight in his ear, making it ring. “I…knew something was up, I just knew and I didn’t…” She sends puffs of hot air at his skin, sitting back but holding his hand again. “I knew something was wrong when you never showed up anymore. I didn’t want to believe it and then…with everything else going on.” She sighs, wiping her tears off her face. “I closed my eyes.”

“It’s not your fault, Lots.” Louis says hoarsely, affected, “I did all that on my own, everything. I knew what I was doing.” He shrugs his shoulders helplessly, “I just…I tried, you know? After my first date with Harry I really tried to stay away but then he was gone all the time…” He looks heavensward, swallowing, collecting himself before continuing. “And it’s hard when you’re alone, yeah? I couldn’t leave the house and…” He trails off with a long breath.

They look at each other for a moment, the beeping sound the only noise mixed with their breaths and sniffs.

“I’m sorry.” They say at the same time, laughing quietly after.

“I — of course — forgive you.” Louis rolls his eyes, smile widening, “Obviously.”

“We need to talk about your problem, Louis.” Lottie raises her eyebrows, “and we need to talk about that guy that attacked you…the police—”

“I can’t talk to the police.” Louis interjects quickly. “I can’t Lottie, I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“The police caught him.” Lottie talks over him.

“I need to talk to Harry.” Louis says, frowning deeply.

“Why? Because…that guy is a drug dealer, too?” Lottie mimics his frown. “Louis…” She sighs, disappointment clear in her gentle voice.

“Have you called mum?”

Lottie nods.

Their mum isn’t present and that basically says it all. He’s been out like a light for three days, and the absence of his mum shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“She’ll come around on the weekend though.”

“She can stay in London for all I care.” Louis grits out.

“Louis—”

“I know her work is important, it’s basically her real and only child, innit?”

Lottie can’t disagree with that, so she just looks away, out of the window.

“I told her, that you’re still taking drugs.”

Louis closes his eyes, hands slipping from Lottie’s grip.

“I can’t believe you did that.” He whispers. This is all too much. He just woke up and apparently he can’t even catch a break when he’s laying in a bloody hospital bed. Maybe he should knock himself out again.

“We need to get you professional help.”

“Whatever,” Louis opens his eyes just so he can glare at her. “When am I allowed to leave?”

Lottie hums thoughtfully. “I’ll go check with Tommy, alright?”

“He’s my doctor?” Louis asks, surprised.

Lottie smiles softly despite the tension that is now a wall between them. “Only the best for my baby brother.” Louis watches her leave the room, and when she exits it, Harry enters again, with him Lara and Liam.

“Hi Lou!” Lara grins, kissing his forehead.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Liam asks, worried eyes observing Louis' face.

Harry stays quiet but in his green eyes there is a question and…worry, oh. Louis rubs his cheeks, finding they are still damp with his tears. Huh.

“Is this a bad time?” Liam asks, chewing on his lip. “You just woke up, maybe we should’ve come around a bit later?”

Louis shakes his head, smiling. “It’s alright,” He nods with each of his words. “I’m glad to see you lot.” It’s true, seeing his friends in the little hospital room warms his heart. They are here for him, they were worried. They are here…for Louis. They care.

A smile takes over Liam’s face, lightening his eyes too. Thank god.

“You really are trouble,” Lara sighs, “I didn’t quite believe any of the stories Zayn told us about you.” She grins, “Badass. Getting into fights with guys twice as big and strong as you are.”

Louis shakes his head. “I didn’t want that to happen.” He says, this time around at least. “I was caught off guard.”

Lara snorts, “Yeah otherwise you would’ve used your ninja moves, huh?”

Louis chuckles hoarsely, “Exactly.”

“Zayn called me.” Liam informs him, “He said you called him and you were in trouble.”

Louis rolls his eyes, exhaling slowly, here it comes.

“Why were you at the train station?” Lara asks, frowning now, too.

Harry sits more upright in the chair he’s claimed for himself.

Louis can’t look at any of them, feeling foolish for even going there in the first place. They all know already, Louis muses, they just want him to say it.

“I…uh,” He starts, inhaling deeply, “I wanted to go back to London.” He shrugs, afraid of what he will see if he looks up.

There is a beat of silence. Then —

“Why?” Liam exclaims. “Why would you? What were you thinking?”

“Actually,” Louis chuckles humourlessly, “I wasn’t thinking…like, at all. Uh, Lottie and I…we…” He clears his throat remembering their scream battle — they’ve never fought like that before and it still hurts his heart. “We had a major fight, and she kicked me out of the house. I didn’t know where to go.”

Harry takes a sharp breath. Louis still isn’t looking at them but he can feel the piercing stares. He feels hot under all the covers.

“Sorry guys,” Belle says from the door, “sorry to interrupt, but I got Louis some painkillers and a bottle of water,” She chuckles, “Lottie made it very clear that you need your water, hun.”

He looks up just when Liam steps to the side to make space for Belle, but Lara’s eyes are hung on the girl, her lips parted.

Harry seems to notice too, the tension between them all forgotten for a moment as they share an amused gaze. Harry’s mouth twitches, he hides his smile behind his finger, biting his knuckle.

“It’s all good,” Louis says, forcing his eyes to look away from Harry and meet Belle’s gaze. “Thank you.” He says, taking the three little pills from her and the bottle of water.

“You’re welcome, love.” She smiles. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shakes his head, “Nuh-hu.” He looks Lara’s way, seeing her shake her head and concentrating very hard on the blanket.

Interesting.

“You lot need to leave soon, Louis needs his rest.” Belle addresses the room, eyes mock-stern, Louis watches as Lara and her eyes meet, then Belle looks back at him.

“I don’t want them to leave so soon.” He makes his best pouty-puppy-eye-face.

Belle just snorts, “Those will knock you out in a few minutes.” She points to the painkillers.

Louis' lips twitch in amusement of her choice of words. Harry clears his throat, not as amused as Louis, apparently.

She notices her mistake, eyes wide. “Oh, I mean…I mean…they will help you…sleep.” She blinks rapidly, “Not knock you out, just…get some rest okay?”

Lara chuckles, gaining Belle’s attention, and they look at each other. “Don’t worry, dark humour is Louis' humour, right?” Lara winks at Louis before turning back to Belle. “What is your name?” Lara asks, getting up from the bed, Louis apparently forgotten, and follows Belle out of the room.

Louis whistles, “Look at that, pulling at the hospital.”

Liam chuckles closed-lipped. “She needs it though.”

“What do you mean?” Louis frowns, feeling the pills kick in, he shifts on the small bed, getting more comfortable.

Harry is the one to answer, “She broke up with Ivana,” He smiles, proudly. “Ivana had been ignoring her the past weeks,” he gets up from the chair, “it was only fair that Lara didn’t want to stay in a one-sided relationship.”

Louis hums, remembering the party where Ivana snogged a girl that was definitely not Lara. “Hm, good for her, I’m proud of Lara.”

“She deserved better.” Liam agrees quietly but just as fond.

“A nurse can take great care of her,” Harry wiggles his brows, eyes mirthful. He sits in Lara’s old spot.

“Role-play, kinky.” Louis forms a tired but amused smile.

“And, that is my cue to leave.” Liam ruffles Louis hair fondly, “See you when you wake up, we still have to talk.” His expression turns stern for a moment, like a dad scolding his son.

“Whatever,” Louis bats his lashes, an innocent look on his face.

Liam leaves with a “Sweet dreams” and once more Harry and Louis are alone in the room.

Not that Louis minds…

Harry cradles Louis' chin, careful not to touch the jawline that’s still hurting. Louis' eyes flutter shut even before Harry leans in, lips touching his own with no pressure behind, just ghosting over them.

“Get some rest, Lou,” He whispers against Louis mouth, “dream about me.”

Louis open his eyes, Harry winks cheekily.

“Always,” Louis smiles, sighing, he closes his eyes again, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, the edges of his brain start to blur out. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Of course,” Harry kisses his forehead, “always.” He repeats the word into Louis' hair.

Louis is fast asleep a short second later.

 

*   *   *

 

“Harry…” Lottie sighs quietly. “I don’t know if that’ll work.”

Louis keeps his lids shut and tries to tame his heart before it can speed up and cause the heart-monitor to expose him.

“We could try?” Louis imagines Harry scrunching up his nose adorably. “I don’t think he’ll go to rehab.”

Louis holds his breath at that, keeping his face from frowning.

Lottie sighs again, like they’ve talked about that topic already more than once. “He has to, he won’t get better without professional help!” She argues, her voice rising with each word. Louis basically can see her talking with her hands right now, hears the fury in her voice. She continues, more quietly, now. “He’ll fall back in the rabbit hole the moment he’s out.”

“I can help him,” Harry whispers, “let me help him.”

“I appreciate your concern about my brother, but I think you’re the last person that can help.”

The following silence is filled with tension. It seems both of them are holding their breath, too.

“I…” Harry clears his throat, and there is a squeaking noise, Louis thinks he’s sitting more upright, maybe leaning forward. “I can’t be mad at you for thinking that way…about me, I’m a dealer after all.”

Lottie huffs.

“But I…”

“No, Harry. Leave it.”

“I can’t tell you more,” Harry says, apologetic. “I really can’t, but what I can promise you is that I’ll take care of your brother, you can’t make me leave him.”

“I could call the bloody police on you.” Lottie threatens. Louis wants to open his eyes so badly, the situation is getting out of control and he needs to say something but, then —

“You wouldn’t.” Harry says, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

“No,” Lottie gives in. “I wouldn’t.”

Relief lifts a weight off Louis' chest and it gets a bit easier to breathe again.

Both of them stay mute after that and Louis thinks now is the best time to pretend waking up. He sighs low in his throat, shifting a bit on the bed, wiggling his toes. Then Louis opens his eyes, the room is dark, the only light coming from a street lamp outside.

“Louis,” Lottie smiles carefully, standing by his side a second later, “how are you?”

He blinks, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I’m great.” He croaks, eyes finding Harry instantly. Harry, though, averts his gaze and fiddles with the hem of his rumpled shirt.  

“You should be home,” Louis says, turning his attention to Lottie, “sleeping, you need your rest.”

“I’m not that far, Louis.” She rolls her blue eyes. “Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head and she sighs. “I’ll get the nurse anyway.” With that, she leaves Harry and Louis alone. When the door shuts behind her, Harry stands up from his chair and makes his way over to the bed, slowly and with a careful expression on his tired face.

“Hey you.” He whispers, sitting down.

“Hi baby.” Louis smiles taking one of Harry’s hands that rest on his thigh.

“You heard, didn’t you?” Harry lifts his brows, looking knowingly at him.

Louis' smile turns apologetic. “I might have.”

Harry blows air out of his nose, like he’d expected it. Maybe Louis' skills to pretend to be asleep weren’t that great, or Harry simply knows him too well by now, since they have spent so many nights and mornings together. “I’m sorry, I’m the last person to have a right to fight with your sister.”

Louis is already shaking his head mid-sentence. “You guys shouldn’t be fighting in the first place.”

“We both want what's best for you,” Harry declares, “we just have different opinions what that means.”

Smiling slightly, Louis pats the spot next to him. “Lay down with me.”

Harry hesitates, but then, he squeezes himself in the small space beside him. Louis scoots a little to the side, making more room for his boyfriend with his giraffe-legs and a torso for days. Harry places his hand on his chest, pecking his neck and cheek before settling his head on his own arm.

“What do you want?” Harry asks, quietly. “D’you want to go to rehab?”

Louis doesn’t have to think about it, he knows already, so he shakes his head in the smallest of movements. “No, I don’t want that.” He enunciates, averting his gaze to his own hand that lies flat on the sheets. He taps his finger, then looks up again.

Harry catches his gaze, nodding in understanding. “We’ll figure something out.” He murmurs into Louis' hair. Harry grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together and bringing their knot to his mouth. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of Louis' hand before resting them against his own chest. Louis can make out the faint heartbeat. It’s soothing, and Louis' smile stretches into a yawn.

“We will. I trust you, Harry.” Louis says, closing his heavy lidded eyes. “Now lets sleep for a bit, yeah?”

The last thing Louis feels is another peck to the back of his hand, then he drifts off to another blank space, feeling more settled and warm, loved and safe than ever before.

 

*    *    *

 

It’s morning and Tommy announces Louis is allowed to go home.

Louis wants to go with Harry, obviously. However, Lottie and his boyfriend ganged up on him. They may have a different opinion on the plan of recovery, but they both think it’s better that Louis stays at Lottie’s for the next few days.

Louis tried everything to convince Harry that it’d be better for Louis to stay at the house. Since Louis feels the safest when he’s with Harry and can’t sleep as well when Harry isn’t next to him, one would think, that would be enough for his boyfriend to change his mind and team up with him instead. But, not so much luck, since Lottie is an actual doctor and stays at home for the time being and can baby Louis and make sure all his wounds heal the way they are supposed to.

They have a point, but _still_ …

Louis is stubborn, just got back from hell and reunited with Harry after what felt like years. Also they are not truly okay yet, so much to talk over, so much to share, and Louis can't help but feel betrayed that Harry agreed to it.

“It’s for the best, baby.” Harry says, gently like the first rays of sun in the morning. “Besides, I’ll be coming over tonight, remember?”

Louis pouts, but Harry kisses the pout off of his lips.

“Whatever,” Louis muses, standing on his tiptoes to get another kiss before they have to part for the next few hours. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” Harry agrees, smiling and pecking Louis' lips one more time. One final time. Oh nope, that’s wrong - Louis kisses him again.

“Good,” He whispers against Harry’s lips.

“Guys,” Lottie groans. “Let's go, I’m starving.”

Right, they are outside, in the parking lot and oh…yeah, that’s correct, his lovely annoying sister is waiting for him.

Louis stand back on his soles, grinning at Harry and earning a wink in response.

“Bye Harry.” Lottie calls over her shoulder and leads Louis to her car before they can do any more than wave and smile at each other.

Inside the car, he watches his heart pull out of the parking space next to them, driving away with a quiet honk.

Louis sighs, thinking that he’ll make sure that Harry stays the night. With that thought running on loop in his mind, he smiles into his neckline.

When they are at the house, sitting on the couch with a cuppa in their hands and watching some rom-com on telly, Louis finally dares to ask.

“Did…uh _mum_ call?” He keeps his gaze locked on the main character, who laughs at something.

Lottie doesn’t answer at first, then there is a muttered “No,” and Louis purses his lips as a needle of hurt pokes his heart.

“I think, she’s not even in England right now.” Lottie says, nudging his shoulder with her elbow to get him to look at her. When he does, he sees what he is feeling inside of him, anger, sadness, worry… it’s all there in the blue of her eyes, and when she smiles, he returns it, because what else can they do but pretend it’s all good, even if it’s not?

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs anyway, looking back at the screen.

“Don’t apologise on her behalf.” Louis says monotonous. “We don’t need her, innit?” He voice dips lower, almost a whisper. He clears his throat.

Lottie shakes her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Louis doesn’t know either, so he stays quiet.

The sound of Lottie’s mobile startles both of them, and she glances down at the new message, her frown turning into a little smile as she types her reply.

“Who is it?” Louis wonders, trying to get a peek, she turns it upside down before he can read the name.

“Tommy,”

Louis twists his face in displeasure, remembering the last time he read one of their very, eh, _intimate_ very _private_ chats. “Okay, then I really don’t wanna know what that was about.”

Lottie laughs softly, rolling her eyes briefly at him and sticking out her tongue. He crosses his eyes back at her, and they chuckle before finishing the movie without another spoken word leaving their lips.

After that, they start another one of those romantic unrealistic comedies and Louis drifts off to sleep not even ten minutes in.

He wakes up to the afternoon sun beaming through the living room and possibly setting his bleary eyes on fire. It’s too hot in the layers of his sweater. Smacking his lips together, his tongue feels like it’s covered in something cottony. He scrunches his nose at the feeling and licks his lips to get rid of the foul taste.

“Good morning sunshine.”

Louis looks to his left, where Lottie sat just an hour ago or so, and there is Harry. He grins when he sees Louis' attention is on him and turns his phone upside down on the cushions, ignoring as it vibrates with a new text.

“Had a nice beauty sleep?”

Louis rolls his eyes, sitting up more straight as he hides his yawn behind his hand. “You tell me.” Louis groans, stretching his limbs and propping his socked feet up on the coffee table, next to their earlier used cups.

“Hm, did you pretty well, sleep suits you.” Harry arches an eyebrow.

“Thanks love, always so nice to me.” Louis bats his lashes. “Does that mean you’d rather have me sleeping than awake? I’m wounded.” He clutches his heart, flattening his palm.

Harry laughs fondly.

“C’mere,” Louis pats the spot beside him, opening his arm as invitation. “You’re too far away.”

Harry scoots closer, using his fists on the cushions to push his weight into Louis' arms. When Harry is near him, he kisses Louis' temple.

“Seriously, how are you?” He asks, voice a serious rasp. Louis sighs, snuggling up against Harry’s side.

“I’m good.” He says, though the back of his head still hurts like hell and every time he rests it anywhere, the pounding comes back. It all makes it hard to concentrate. The pain on his jaw had let up — thank god, and he hopes the bruise will disappear sooner rather than later.

Harry thumbs gently over the ruddy-yellowish spot, eyes concerned.

“It’s fine, H.” Louis rolls his eyes again, blushing under the stern attention. “Since when are you here?” He asks, trying to change the subject of the conversation to more pleasant things.

Harry sighs, burying his nose in Louis' hair, fingers playing with it for a moment. Then he leans back, drawing an arm tighter around Louis’ spine, pulling him more against his chest.

“Since ten minutes or so,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stay away until dinner time. I hope you’re okay with me being here.”

Louis scoffs. “Of course,” He frowns. “I basically lived at yours, you should feel at home at mine.” He pats Harry’s thigh.

Harry chuckles softly. “All right. Your sister has a lovely home.”

“Make sure to tell her that.” Louis smiles, feeling a pang of pride in his chest, knowing well how much effort his sister put into making her home cozy and welcoming.

“Already have.” Harry says with a low voice, “She laughed and said I can kiss her feet next.”

Louis snorts his laugh, not surprised. “It’s the Tomlinson charm, don’t worry.”

“It is, I quite adore it.” Harry whispers like it’s a secret.

Louis kisses his neck as answer.

“Where is my sister, anyway?” Louis blinks only remembering now that she had been here thirty minutes ago, and he doesn’t hear any noise in the house. He purses his lips.

“Oh, grocery shopping. Said if I steal anything you’ve got to pay for it.”

“She really _is_ a charmer, isn’t she?” Louis rolls his eyes again. “Unbelievable.”

Harry makes a face. “I’ve been eying that vase over there for quite some time. I think it would look lovely on the coffee table in my house, don’t you think?” He asks with a bittersweet purr.

Louis giggles, poking Harry’s waist. “Shut up.”

“Make me.” Harry wiggles his brows, smirking.

“You really don’t want me to kiss you like this.” Louis wrinkles his nose, still having a weird stale taste in his mouth.

“Actually, I really, really do.” Harry hushes, already leaning in.

“Harry…” Louis warns.

Harry bites his lip, trying to hide his grin but failing. “We’ve kissed in the morning before. I kissed you after you ate my—”

Louis silences him with a kiss, it is meant to be a quick peck but the moment their lips meet, Louis' insides turn to jelly and a fire runs through his veins. He sighs into the kiss as Harry parts his lips, kissing him with an open mouth, licking playfully over Louis' bottom lip until Louis gives in and darts his tongue out, too. They have to break apart when they start to smile so hard it’s just a mess of teeth and stretched lips.

Harry chuckles into Louis' neck, murmuring a quiet “Missed you.”

Louis smiles fondly at Harry. “Missed you, too.” More than anything, since Louis thought he had lost Harry when he left the house the other day. The memory plants a knot in Louis' stomach and before he gets carried away with the unpleasant thought he sits more upright, untangling their limbs.

“Wanna join me upstairs? I wanna shower before dinner.” Louis says.

“Yeah, uh. Sure,” Harry agrees easily.

“Just making sure you don’t steal that vase.” Louis winks, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to pull Harry up, too.

Harry rolls his eyes at him, full of fondness.

“I’ve never been in your room.” Harry states when they are upstairs and Louis opens his closet to find that one white shirt he’s sure he packet.

“Oh.” Louis blinks. “It’s nothing special, innit?” He glances over his shoulder. Harry has made himself at home on the twin sized bed, back resting against the wall, ankles sticking out over the bed’s edge. His hands are folded in his lap, his eyes glued to something next to Louis.

Confused, Louis turns to see what Harry is looking at and his heart stops beating for a second.

“I wanted to give it back to you.” Louis says quickly. “I swear, I just…I’m pretty forgetful, remember?” He scratches his neck, awkwardly.

“S’fine.” Harry chuckles, apparently not bothered that Louis has kept his coat hostage for quite a while. “I was already wondering where I put it, thought I lost it somewhere in Manchester.”

“No, not lost.” Louis blushes. “It smelled like you.”

Harry’s eyebrows jump to the ceiling. “I gave you that coat, when? Your first week living here?”

Louis averts his eyes to the ground, cheeks feeling hotter and hotter by the second as those green beams are on him.

“Uh, guess…so?” Louis purses his lips, moving them side to side and pinching one of his eyes shut, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry’s lips twitch, “like you said, it’s not lost.”

“Hmm,” Louis feels oddly embarrassed. With a red neck, he turns back to the task at hand, finding that bloody tee.

“My mum bought it for me.” Harry mumbles. “She knew I loved the brand. I always talked about it and she got it for me on Christmas…two years ago or something.”

Jesus Christ, and here Louis had thought Harry bought it with drug money, at least he remembers thinking that in a very bad way. Now he wouldn’t bat an eye if Harry told him he bought it after two months working as a dealer.

Now, Louis feels even worse for keeping the coat for so long. “I’m sorry.” Louis says again, turning once more, though this time, the shirt he’s been looking for is in his hands. “I should’ve given it back right away. I was being selfish.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s summer anyway.” He says matter-of-factly with a quick glance outside. “I don’t need a coat, plus it really looked cute on you.” His smirk turns into a soft smile. His eyes are gentle, not mad or angry. There are no signs that he’s lying just to make Louis feel better.

Louis heaves a great sigh in relief. “Okay, okay uh…” he says, breathy.

“Go shower, I think Lottie just got back.” Harry lifts his eyebrows, “D’you want me to help you get clean?”

“Ha-ha,” Louis rolls his eyes fondly. “Nuh-hu, thanks. Besides I think we’d come out more dirty than clean anyway.”

“Hm, was worth a try.” Harry pouts, and Louis kisses it right off of his face when he passes him to get to the bathroom.

Harry cups his nape, pulling him closer, and Louis falls forward, holding onto Harry’s shoulders to keep balance. Harry hums into the kiss. “Hurry.” He mutters against Louis' mouth and nips one last time at his bottom lip.

Louis simply messes up Harry’s hair before slipping through the door and into the bathroom.

He wishes he would have been more prepared for the answers the mirror beholds. He had been avoiding looking at himself the whole day, since it was a shock the first time around, after the nurse gave him the okay to go to the bathroom by himself. He looked far worse then, of course. But still…

The left side of his face is red, his jaw a deep red-yellowish and there are scratches over his cheek and forehead. On his neck is still the band aid Belle put there before he left the hospital; Lottie has to change it after his shower.

Louis sighs. He does look awful.

There is a knock on the door, “Louis?” His sister asks.

“What?” He watches his lips form the word in the mirror.

“I’m starting on dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll be right out.”

“Harry is helping.” There is a grin in her voice and he can’t help but form a smile of his own.

“Of course he is.” He mutters to himself. “I’m not surprised!” He calls to Lottie, knowing she’s still outside. She knocks once more, to let him know she’s going downstairs.

If Lottie lets Harry help in her kitchen, it means a lot. Lottie can be quite bossy when she’s the chef, so it’s already a good sign.

Louis showers, carefully not to fall over on the slippery ground.

When he shuts the water off, he hears Harry’s laughter from downstairs and Tommy’s loud voice. Lottie giggles and Louis finds himself grinning madly at his reflection in the mirror. He could get used to this, Louis thinks, observing his own bright eyes and the blinding smile that takes over his wounded, colourful rainbow face.

 

 

 ***    *    ***  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos, if you liked it!*
> 
> thank you guys for reading! xxx


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOUIS OH MY GOD i can't believe he's 27 now, it's crazy isn't it? time flies!! I really hope he's surrounded by family and friends and has the loveliest time! :') 
> 
> and, also, very important: 
> 
> Merry Christmas Eve everyone!! To those who celebrate: I really hope you have the best of times, and spend Christmas with your loved ones and...well - eat loads of food! hahaha! 
> 
> I really want to thank everyone again, who reads this story and likes it, a big thank you goes to everyone who comments and leaves kudos and your messages are lovely and ahhhhh, you guys are just the best! i love you all hahaha! 
> 
> another thankkkk you goes my brilliant beta serena, who puts so much effort into editing! thank you so much for helping me :') <3
> 
> ALL RIGHT. Let's go, merry christmas eve, guess this is my gift to you guys xxx 
> 
> enjoy!

 

***    *    ***

 

 

Harry is amazing and Louis is a tiny bit awestruck.

Throughout dinner, his boyfriend keeps the conversation light with his knock-knock jokes and animated hand gestures. He compliments Lottie on her cooking, causing her to blush prettily and remind him that it was all his doing, which he denies with a blinding smile but knowing sparkle in his eyes. Harry discusses footie with Tommy and winks at Louis when Tommy laughs the loudest at one of Harry’s awfully funny imitations.

So, yes, his boyfriend is amazing and Louis is a _whole lot_ awestruck. He's probably been making heart-eyes at him the entire time but he can't be bothered by that. He is not even a bit ashamed or embarrassed, he's in love and alive, he can fond all over Harry as much as he wants to, thank you very much.

He has no idea how Harry does it or maybe it’s just his personality, so bright it lights up the whole room, lights up the sky and all of their hearts. There are no mentions of drugs, recovery, or anything that could possibly make Louis uncomfortable. Every time Lottie opens her mouth, expression turning careful and her blue eyes hardened a tad, Harry dives into a new topic, distracting everyone and squeezing Louis' thigh hidden under the table. Louis honestly couldn’t ask for more.

After dinner, Harry insists on helping clean the dishes and Louis knows, if Lottie wasn’t in love with Harry yet, she’d be charmed to death by his earnest offer.

When everything is clean, tidy, and back in place, they find themselves seated comfortably on the couch. It's a tight fit, but they make it work. They watch a movie Tommy chose, which is actually pretty good, a lot of shooting and blood flowing, racing cars, and distressed looking characters yelling orders at each other and escape death just _so_ . It keeps the attention off of Louis as well, everyone enjoying the film and the chatter that floats the room is about the action thriller, too. So no one notices when Louis snuggles closer to Harry, lacing their fingers together and murmuring a soft _‘Thank you’_ in his ear. Harry’s glance flickers from the screen to Louis, smiling ever so gently and pulling him more into his side.

Time ticks on and with each minute, Louis relaxes more and more against Harry’s warm embrace, fully convinced he's off the hook by now.

They’ve made it. They made it through the entire evening without awkward silence or stammering. They survived and not only that, but now Louis can be sure he has the approval from Lottie about his choice of a boyfriend (not that it’d matter that much, he’d never change his mind about Harry, but it’s nice to know a part of his family is just as much in love with Harry as Louis himself — it’s a big relief).

Later on, no one bats an eye when Louis announces Harry’s going to stay the night. Tommy just pats his back and Lottie smirks, winking when Louis and Harry make their way upstairs, fingers laced and sleepy smiles sliding over their faces. Louis isn’t too tired to flip her off though and he gets a funny grimace in return. He sticks out his tongue and they only stop when Harry nudges him forward with a muttered but dripping with fondness, _‘children’_.

Both of them are pulled onto the mattress by exhaustion. They snuggle close on the small bed, making it work in their favour when their limbs are tangled together and Louis' nose presses in the crook of Harry’s neck, smelling his spicy cologne. However, it takes an hour of not talking and pretending to be asleep to see that’s not going to happen any time soon, both still awake even when their bodies hum with tiredness.

Louis blinks out of the window - they left the blinds open - and watches the few stars sparkle in the distance, holding all the answers to his questions and the solutions to his problems and fears. He shuffles his feet under the covers and rubs his toes on Harry’s bare ankle. In response, Harry’s arm tightens around his back, a finger starting to draw circles lightly on Louis’ hip bone under his shirt.

“What are you thinking?” Harry whispers, nudging his nose on top of Louis’ head.

“I don’t really get why you’re here.” Louis admits quietly, voice breaking. “I mean, we had a major fight about me…lying and doing drugs and I genuinely thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“Louis…”

“It’s true innit?” Louis sighs wistfully, flattening his hand on Harry’s toned stomach, chest rising and falling under his palm.

“Well…” Harry draws the word out, probably still pondering what he’s going to voice aloud. “I told you, I should’ve known before…I kinda, you know, wanted to believe it wasn’t happening.” His fingers start tapping on Louis’ hip in a nervous rhythm. Harry’s toe pokes Louis’ shin. “I was being unfair. I fucking threw coke at you.” After a moment, he adds, “again,” barely audible though it's quiet in the bedroom.

Before Louis can say anything, Harry continues, apparently on a roll now that he has started. “I probably did everything wrong that one could do wrong.” He chuckles breathily, fingers twitching on Louis’ skin. “I was so caught off guard what Lara said that I didn’t stop for a second to listen what you had to say, all I could…” He swallows, “could hear was this voice screaming at me that I failed you somehow. Y’know with my mum, I didn’t really get what was going on until…” He trails off with a grand exhale. He’s getting worked up now, his chest heaving under Louis’ touch.

“I just needed some time to think and when I wanted to check on you…to talk, or whatever, you weren’t home and I couldn’t reach you on the phone and…” Harry shudders, and Louis frowns in concern, unsure if Harry needs to say more or if it’d be better to cut in now.

“You didn’t fail me Harry, what the hell.” Is what Louis says at the end, brows knitted together as he lifts his head to get a better look at Harry’s face. “I should’ve talked to you sooner. I didn’t know how to bring it up and then Lara kind of ruined it, not that's her fault - she didn't know that you didn't know.” He huffs, flashing back in time. He thinks he never was completely honest with any of them and got away with it, with them knowing only bits and pieces. “I wanted to tell you that day or the day after. You gotta believe me when I tell you I wanted already then to become better for you, but instead I exacerbated it.”

“Louis, this isn’t about becoming better for _me_ . This is about your _own_ life, _your_ health. I’m happy when you’re happy _and_ healthy.” Harry frowns up at him, eyes searching.

He groans, his neck starts to hurt from the way he’s holding himself up. He rests his head back on Harry’s outer bicep.

“Louis…” Harry prompts lightly, tracing along his waist. “Don’t you want to get better for yourself?”

“Y’know my mother hasn’t checked up on me even though she knows from Lottie that I was in the hospital.” Louis says, off topic. The walls of his throat itch with soreness and he pretends it's from the strangulation he suffered through and not because of the hurt that pangs in his body at the absence of his mum. “I…I, uh — told myself I don’t really care…but…”

“You care.” Harry finishes for him with a sad little sigh. “I’m sorry, Lou, you deserve better from your own family. I can’t believe…” For a moment he fumbles to find words, “I mean, you could’ve died!” He exclaims then, voice raising. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Harold?” Louis lifts his eyebrows, going for light-hearted but probably failing by a mile, when his lashes flutter to get the tickling of tears out of them. “S’funny, eh? Everyone is apologising on her behalf, yet she doesn’t even care enough about her son to call.”

“You deserve so much better.” Harry murmurs, calmed down again but still crestfallen. Harry’s reaction makes it worse, somehow. It makes it real. Louis bets Harry’s mum would’ve been the first at the hospital. He blinks, waving an imaginary hand on the inside of his brain to get the unsettling thoughts out of there. He’s glad that it was him they got and not Harry. At the same time, Harry would’ve known what to do. Running away and trying to hide behind cars only works in movies, Louis thinks darkly, feeling pain throb on his jawline.

“Yeah, well…” Louis trails off, at a loss of what to say to that.

“What about your dad though?”

Louis closes his eyes, a lump growing in his throat and it gets harder to swallow, his heart picking up at the mention of his father. “My dad is dead, Harry.” Louis mumbles, inhibited. “Don’t think he cares a lot about me from above…or below, dunno…”

“Wait.” Harry pulls his arm from under Louis’ head, propping his elbow on the pillow and resting his cheek on his fist, eyes flickering over Louis’ face in confusion. “What…I…you said, ‘ _your parents_ ’ …you talked about your dad!” He exclaims in a breath, brows dipping low in his eyes and his mouth turned down at the ends.

Louis chuckles tonelessly, rolling onto his back and stretching his legs, toes wiggling in the duvet. “Well, yeah…” He huffs, apprehensive. “It’s complicated. My biological dad died even before I was born, and my mum married Mark shortly after my birth, so he kind of _is_ my dad. I grew up thinking he’s my dad until…well, y’know. So…” He waggles his fingers in Harry's face, Harry swats at them, an expression of disbelief still etched on his face.

“How— _what_? Why—” Harry splutters, mouth moving without any sound coming out for a few seconds, his eyes growing wide. “I—I’m sorry?” He settles on saying and Louis laughs softly, tugging on a loose curl next to Harry’s ear.

“It’s alright, love, he died in a car accident.” He shrugs. “Mark was his best friend.”

“Every time I think I truly know you, something else pops up and destroys that illusion.” Harry mutters, rubbing his nose. His eyes dart to the side, then back to Louis’ face.

He considers Harry for a beat. “The feeling is mutual, sweet cheeks.” Louis replies, nostalgic. “At the beginning I felt so…weird being around you because I felt like I had told you everything there was to know about me, at least the biggest parts.” He waits, both recalling Louis' confession on the sofa about his parents being homophobes, then he continues where he left off, “which — isn’t much, but you…” His face twitches, “I had to fight for every bit of information.” He chuckles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, skin wrinkling around his eyes. “I was _really_ frustrated.”

Harry makes a small noise of surprise. “No way, I’m an open book, c’mon.”

“You absolutely are not, Harry. You're hard to read if anything. You put so many walls up and every time I peeled one of your thick layers, there was another closed door behind - another layer. I always felt like I was overstepping.”

“You’re one to talk.” Harry rolls his eyes, but now that the shock has worn off, there is a warm glimmer in them. Louis cups Harry’s cheek, smiling when Harry leans into the touch without hesitance. He kisses the bone of Louis’ thumb.

“Never opened up to anyone before, see, never did feelings with anyone else.”

“I’m honoured.” Harry murmurs, biting the pad of  Louis’ index playfully. Louis smile widens into a grin.

“As you should.” He rolls his eyes, lifting his chin a tad. Harry laughs quietly. Louis drops the act with a sigh. “No, there isn’t much to know about me. Besides, in everyone’s eyes I’m apparently an addict and fucked up. A disappointment. And in my own eyes I don’t even know where I’m going with my life, still haven’t figured that one out yet.” He frowns, hand falling from Harry’s cheek. “I kinda was hoping when I came back from the world of weird dreams that I would have all the answers suddenly, and I'd wake up as a new human. All I can remember is Zayn smoking and-” He giggles when Harry snorts, “that's nothing new, can't even imagine Zee without a fucking cig between his lips. Or his bloody leather jacket.”

“He's very fond of that jacket Lou, leave the lad be.” Harry grins, but then the green of his eyes turn serious again. “You’re no fuck up, Lou.” Harry brushes Louis’ fringe, and the gentle contact leaves a tingling feeling on Louis’ skin. “You’re so smart and funny, and you’ve got a big heart. I hate that you think of yourself as not enough and without a future, because you’re too bright to not have one.”

Louis feels oddly choked up. He clears his throat, but it doesn’t do much for the unshed tears that prickle in his eyes. He closes his lids and shakes his head slightly.

“Where does that leave us then?” Harry asks carefully, his voice indicating he is affected by the topic just as much as Louis is. “Don’t you…want…a—” He cuts himself off, and Louis lets his lashes flutter, blinking up in Harry’s sad face.

“I have no idea what I wanna do with my future.” Louis says, and Harry averts his gaze in defeat. “But, I’m not as scared anymore…because you’re with me? At least I hope so, I lo— like you a lot.” Louis rushes to get the last sentence out, and now he’s the one that avoids Harry’s eyes, his gaze darting to the ceiling as silence settles over them.

“Tell me about yourself, Louis.” Harry says quietly, resting his head back on the pillow and wrapping an arm around Louis’ middle.

“What do you want to know? There isn’t much…I can tell you, spent my childhood trapped in an office, at home and in school or playing footie.” He sighs. “My teenage years aren’t much more interesting and after college everything just turned…blurry and dark.” He wrinkles his nose at the last word, smiling slightly at Harry.

“I don’t care, I just wanna get to know you better than I already do.” His eyes are so earnest and his expression so open, free of any judgement or any hint that he is just saying those words for the sake of it. Louis inhales and nods.

So, they talk. All night long, about everything and nothing, about the most random thoughts and memories and the most embarrassing shit that has happened to either of them. Harry listens so intently and is truly interested in everything that comes out of Louis’ mouth that it becomes a tad too easy to reveal his darkest, most painful memories, the biggest fights with his parents and how Louis ended up the way he is. They drift off, Louis sharing little stories about Zayn and how frustrated he was with Louis, always running after him like a mother trying to catch her disobedient son, trying to talk sense into him and get him to stop causing trouble with big bad gang members.

There is no holding back anymore. Harry talks too, a lot. He talks about Gemma and his mother, even confesses stuff about his dad, how hard it was to watch his mother struggle, unable to help because he was too young and alone, Gemma gone to university trying to build a future for herself as journalist.

He talks about how scared he was when the police called him, but how big of a relief it was to hear his mother was alive and as well as she could be, how desperate he was to help her out after that and how he never thought twice about joining the gang, greedy for any support he could get his hands on. When Louis asks if he regrets it, Harry confesses he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant his mother was getting better. No matter the danger, at least his mum was still amongst them.

They only leave some stuff out that doesn’t relate to any of it at the moment.

Louis' heart swells and the more words that are exchanged between them, the lighter their chests become, a heavy weight lifted and puffed into thin air. Louis didn't know he needed to completely open up to someone until he was in the middle of doing it and the honesty he got in return was the most bone-crushing and mind-spinning reward.

Maybe both of them needed it, both used to bottling up emotions and thoughts, everything having just too much of a heavy theme to bring up in a casual conversation when the sun is shining and everyone is in a mild mood.

Harry never wanted to beleaguering his friends with all the shit he has been through, although he knows he could trust them with his life. He admits there is a lot they don't know and maybe could never truly understand.

Harry and Louis have that in common: they want to deal with their problems on their own, never want to bother other people (friends included) with their shit. Both learned over the years how to appear stronger than they actually were.

It’s great, talking is great if it’s Harry he’s talking to. Having Harry looking at him like that is amazing and having Harry plastered next to him in his sister’s home is just as delightful because at the beginning Louis was convinced he would never be able to bring those two worlds together, the two most important people in his life under one roof.

Harry kisses him softly, murmuring gentle words in his hair and tucking him almost completely on top. Louis is just as needy for contact, to touch and kiss. He thought he would never get to do that again after what happened with Hawk (a topic both avoided for the time being) and yearns to become one with Harry.

Louis isn't too daft and desperate to go further than snogging - it kind of feels wrong to have sex with Harry in Lottie’s house when his throat is sandpaper rough and his chest aches. There is still a white ugly band aid on his jaw and he can't hold up his neck longer than a couple of minutes before he has to rest it back on the pillow.

Harry is good with just snuggling too, holding Louis close, his fingers drawing patterns on Louis’ skin until they fall asleep curled around each other, breathing in each other’s air. heir hearts beats align, there are smiles on their faces, and kisses are exchanged before sleep pulls them into a warm darkness, leaving their minds peacefully blank and their bodies filled with love.

Their broken souls recreated as one.

 

*    *    *

 

The next morning starts with Harry taking the kitchen hostage to prepare brekkie for Lottie, Louis, and himself. The smell of pancakes and eggs, bacon and Yorkshire tea fills the house as a gentle wake up call. Tommy is already at work and throughout brekkie, they keep the conversation around the food and how well Harry cooks. Everyone still tired from the night before; it had gotten a bit later than they’d expected.

However, it’s better than Louis ever had thought it could be. Lottie smiles at Harry, and Harry winks at Lottie, making jokes, asking questions about her baby, and getting her involved in a chat about his own sister, saying the two of them would make great friends. It all warms Louis' heart and he feels cozy on the inside, trying to hide his fond smile behind his mug, but failing the moment Harry glances at him and sends him a cheeky wink.

While Louis was in the shower, somehow Harry’s convinced Lottie to let Louis come back to his house, so here they are, saying goodbye. Lottie draws Harry into a tight embrace, and when her eyes catching Louis' gaze over his shoulder, she smiles gently. Louis nods.

When it’s Louis’ turn for a hug, she holds him back as Harry makes his way to the car.

“I like him.” She says in a low voice. “I’m sorry for what I said before.”

Louis shrugs off the concerned look on her face. “It’s all right. I wasn’t really nice to him either when we first met.”

Lottie rolls her eyes, slapping his shoulder playfully. “You know what I mean.” She blinks, then adds. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Louis nods, hugging her once more. “Thank you, Lots, you’re amazing.” He whispers before drawing back. They share another moment of sibling love, then he shuffles after Harry, still sore from the way his body was thrown around like a doll. Though the pain is not as bad as it once was, it’s still there, a reminder that it happened with each step he takes, like some greater power wants to make sure Louis won’t do something like that ever again.

When they speed away from the house, Louis opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure if he should cut the topic or wait a little bit longer. They avoided it yesterday for a reason, but now Louis has to know, otherwise he won’t be able to rest at night.

“What?” Harry asks, side-eyeing him amused.

Louis breathes through his nose. “I’m just wondering what happened to Hawk.”

There is a moment of silence. Louis holds the air trapped in his lungs, then exhales, gazing at Harry carefully.

“Uh, as far as I know he’s still being held by the police.” Harry shrugs, but his shoulders are stiff. There is more to it. Louis is scared to ask.

“Why?”

“Well, they think he has something to do with gangs, but he isn’t saying anything and the witnesses from…the attack uh…they don’t know, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, stopping at a red light and glancing at Louis. “He’s been caught before, with some weed, but it wasn’t enough to get him to go to jail for dealing.”

“And now?”

“Well, I’ve no idea.” Harry says. “I haven’t been to Manchester in a week or so…” He frowns, fumbling. “I haven’t done any more deals, and I turned my work phone off.”

“Don’t you get in trouble for that?” Louis mimics his frown, concerned.

“Probably…” Harry sighs.

“What about your mum?”

Harry tenses. He doesn’t look at him but hits the pedal a bit too hard when the light turns green and the car makes a jump forward.

“One thing after the other, I can’t think about everything at once.” Harry mutters when he pulls the car into the driveway, a long while later. “It gives me a headache.”

“Understandable.” Louis reaches across the armrest and squeezes his hand. When Harry looks at him, Louis smiles gently. “It’s all good, yeah?” Louis waits until Harry gives a tiny nod before getting out.

Harry unlocks the door to the house. “I’m going for a walk with Travis, I promised them.” He says, lingering outside. “Wanna come with me? I’d rather have you by my side and not alone in the house.”

Louis doesn’t have to think long about it. He smiles, shrugging, and a moment later they are on their way to pick up their good boy Travis.

When they’ve got him on the leash, and walk over to the fields, the sun has warmed up a bit. The sky is empty and shining in a clear blue. Louis picks up a stick on the path, Harry laughs at the eager dog and lets Travis off the leash. Louis throws the stick, and Travis runs after it, his ears flying at his sides.

“So,” Louis draws out the ’ _o_ ’, “what’s the plan for today?”

Harry keeps his eyes ahead, fixed on Travis’ body in the distance. “Dunno — nothing, really.”

“Exciting,” Louis deadpans, licking his lips. “So there isn’t anything you have to do?” He prompts, thinking about deals and buyers and a backpack full of coke and weed. 

Harry shakes his head, tugging his black bandana back in place.

“Alright-o.” Louis nods curtly. “I guess we won’t talking about it, then.”

Confusion clouds Harry's eyes when he looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“You said you can’t quit and yet you’re hiding out.” Louis shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He feels so much like he’s overstepping, which is weird after their late night talk.

“I wanna be here for you.” Harry says, the frown audible in his voice.

“You are.” Louis nods, starting to walk again when he sees Travis is running in their direction. “You always are.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Harry admits quietly. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Louis blinks. The reason is obvious. They don’t have to say it out loud, but Harry actually saying he wants to quit is…new. It opens so many new doors for them, Louis almost can taste their future. Taking Harry’s hand in his, he drags him along the path. “What is the plan then?”

“There is no plan…yet.” Harry grins. “Living in the moment and all that.”

“That’s good,” Louis snorts, chuckling. “Maybe they’ll forget about you with all the trouble Hawk caused them.”

Harry's grin turns cheeky, dimple out and all. “Hope so.” He sing-songs, swinging their laced hands between their bodies.  

Travis barks at them, tail swaying in the dirt, big brown eyes peeking from Louis to Harry. “Where is your stick, mate?” Harry asks. He pats Travis’ head, grin widening when Travis licks his hand, getting drool all over it. “Gross.” Harry wipes it off on his jeans, leaving a wet spot on the black.

They make it further down the road, only stopping to call for Travis when they lose sight of the brown fur. Their soles rustle the leaves when they enter the small forest part, bodies of trees surrounding them and giving the illusion of being deeper in the woods than they actually are. Louis knows if they’d walk straight, they’d get to the motorway.

Harry sends Louis another of his brilliant grins.

“What?” Louis asks, frowning, but lips twitching in amusement.  

Harry wiggles his brows.

“What?” Louis asks again, stopping. “What’s going on?”

Fishing something out of his pockets, Harry keeps his gaze fixed Louis. “Remember that joke you told?”

“I tell jokes all the time, you gotta be more specific.” Louis rolls his eyes, biting down on his smile.

“The one with the date and the knife?”

It takes a moment for Louis to realise what he’s talking about. His face lights up, a surprised chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh!” He exclaims, breathy. “When I see lovers’ names carved in a tree. I don’t think it’s sweet. I just think it’s surprising how many people bring a knife on a date.” He retells the joke.

Harry laughs in delight, snapping his fingers at Louis, “That’s the one.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s actually more of a question than a joke. Seriously, who brings a knife on a date?” He starts walking again, but Harry stops him.

“Apparently…” Harry’s eyes are sparkling mirthful. “I do.” He opens his fist, revealing a little flip-knife.

Louis barks out another surprised laugh. “What?” His eyes widen when he looks back at Harry’s face. “Harry, no.”

“Harry, yes.” Harry smirks. “Here are a lot of trees and I’m quite enjoying our date - would be a shame to not do it.”

Louis is still shaking his head when Harry reaches the nearest tree, Travis sitting by his side, curiously peeking at Harry, ears perked and head tilted.

“I can’t believe you.” Louis mutters fondly, when their names are next to each other, connected with a plus and a heart caging them in. He slides his fingers over the rind, tracing over their names and unable to help but feel a tad awestruck. “That’s so cheesy.” Louis exhales, turning his head to Harry who’s watching him with a fond expression. Louis blushes.

“You love it.” Harry states, blindly reaching out for Louis' hand, pulling him against his chest.

“I do.” Louis can’t lie to a face like Harry’s, so bright with happiness. Perhaps Louis was wrong and Harry is the sun after all.

They kiss until Travis gets impatient, whining at their side.

Laughing, they part, and Louis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, making half-moon eyes at Harry who beams right back at him.

“I think it’s sweet. It’s like a lock on a bridge or something.” Harry shrugs. “What’s the difference?”

“Did you pack the knife just for that reason?” Louis wonders, glancing at their names again.

Harry shakes his head. “I always carry one.”

“Very calming, that.” Louis says, rolling his eyes before outstretching his hand. Harry takes it without hesitance.

Travis barks when he sees they are ready to go back on their journey, sprinting away and waiting for them to catch up with a glance over his shoulder. His trail sways excitedly before he paces away, lifting his leg to pee on a tree. Louis chuckles.

“Have you thought about your options?” Harry asks, kicking a rock on the ground. The rock lands just before Louis' feet and he kicks it, too. Harry kicks it again and soon enough they are playing rock-footie.

Louis laughs when one of the kicks sends the rock flying against a tree, falling sadly to the ground, out of their reach. Now, there aren’t any more distractions and Louis thinks, there is no way Harry will let it drop.

Harry glances at him before looking back at the ground, like he’s afraid of what Louis will say. Louis knows it’s because one of the options is London and knowing that Harry doesn’t want him to leave gives him all the strength he needs. He thought it was pretty much obvious by now that Louis wouldn’t go to London, but…apparently not so.

“I’m not going back to London, Harry There is no way I would leave you here.”

Harry’s head whips around to look at him, the skin around his eyes tight like he’s trying to suppress what he’s actually feeling. “I know your mother didn’t call, but don’t you think it’d be better to get professional help? Your sister was pretty determined about that when I talked to her.”

“London won’t do me any good, H. Being away from you won’t do me good. It’d be stupid.” Louis rolls his eyes.

Harry tilts his head, pursing his lips briefly before sighing in relief and ruffling his hair with his free hand. His fingers get caught between the curls and he tugs until he has freed them. “No yeah, no.” He laughs shortly.

“C’mon now, you didn’t really think after yesterday I’d just fuck off now did you?” Louis asks, tone light. “Not gonna get rid of me ever again.” He adds playfully, “that aside, our names are carved on a bloody tree, so…” He shrugs, trailing off and flicking his wrist nonchalantly.

They share a quiet smile, holding eye contact for a beat then Louis’ gaze darts to the ground, “anyway…”

“Anyway.” Harry mimics, both of them chuckling. Harry checks his phone. “We should get back.” He says, clearing his throat.

Louis blinks, surprised at the turn of conversation, but maybe it’s for the best. He still isn't really keen to talk to anyone professional. “Yeah okay.” He nods quickly. “Where is Travis?”

They glance around but can’t get a glimpse of the dog. Louis frowns, puzzled. “Wasn’t he right…there?” He points at some random tree, knowing he saw the dogs trail not too long ago.

Harry tugs him along. “I think he…” He juts out his bottom lip, pulling it between his fingers as he thinks. “Fuck’s sake, I dunno.”

“Fuck, indeed.” Louis agrees, scratching his neck. “Has he done this before?” He wonders, eyes scanning their surroundings.

Harry shakes his head, then he nods. “Yes, but only when he was a little puppy still.”

“What now?” Louis chuckles breathily, feeling tension in his shoulders build up. When he sees the worry on Harry’s face, he clears his throat. “I bet everything is alright, baby, let’s just look for him, yeah? He can’t be that far, eh?” Louis says gently, being the one that tugs Harry along this time. He can’t help but speed up their steps.

Then, they hear a bark, and both of them stop to look at each other before sprinting in that direction.

“No, you don’t.” Harry says, swirling around and jogging backwards. “You can’t run, stay here okay?”

Louis blinks, unimpressed, though his legs are starting to hurt. He huffs when Harry raises his brows, staring him down.

“Okay, okay.” He lifts his palms in surrender. “You go, hero — save Travis.”

Harry grins at him and gives a mock-salute. He sprints away, stumbling over his own feet before catching himself and then he’s gone in that direction as the dog lets out another bark.

The moment Louis is alone, he starts feeling a bit uneasy. Aware of every noise around him, he grinds his teeth together. There is rustling from his left and his heart speeds up, but when he glances where the noise came from he can’t see anything but trees and leaves. A bird chirps and his heart makes a major jump up to his throat.

He chuckles breathlessly, rubbing his clammy hands together before lacing his fingers. There is another noise and he exhales shakily.

“Fucking chicken,” He mutters to himself. “What’s wrong with you?” He feels his pulse galloping in his neck, and his fingers start to shake, cold sweat breaking out of his pores. His throat is dry all of a sudden, his tongue too huge for his mouth somehow.

Louis sinks his teeth in the flesh of his inner cheek, trying to remain calm but it’s not working. When there is a loud rustling sound, he jumps in the air, swirling around and staring at nothing but a bird up in the crown of a tree. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he gulps down as much air as he can, starting to feel lightheaded. The back of his head starts to prickle with phantom pain. Louis closes his eyes.

Hands are gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into his collarbones and then he slams onto the hard ground, leaving him gasping like a fish on his back. The pain on his jaw pounds with burning pain. His ribs hurt as the tips of boots collide with them, and his heart aches. He can’t breathe, someone is pressing his knee on his chest, pressing, pressing, pressing…there is not enough air in his lungs.

He can’t breathe, he can’t fucking breathe. Somebody has to see, somebody has to help. Louis is dying and nobody helps, he can’t fucking breathe—

“Louis?”

He blinks his eyes open, the light blinding him as he gulps down oxygen. Harry stands in front of him, Travis sat by his feet and secure with the leash clicked on his lilac collar. Both pairs of eyes stare at him like he’s some sort of alien.

“Uh…” Louis slowly unclenches his fists, his body relaxing the longer he looks into Harry’s eyes. “Uh.” He clears his throat, feeling stupid for his irrational fear. His shoulders still tremble slightly and Louis hopes Harry thinks it's the breeze and nothing else.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, reaching out, and Louis flinches on instinct, though he doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes over Harry’s face. He has no idea why he did that, his body just reacted to the hand.

What is wrong with him? What is going on?

“Uh…eh,” He says again, tongue swollen. “You found Travis.” He croaks, rubbing his neck awkwardly, fingers pressing into the bruises Hawk’s hands left.

“I did.” Harry says, nodding slowly, concerned eyes flickering over Louis’ face. Louis swallows.

There is a coat of sweat on his skin and he feels on edge, glancing over his shoulder. With three steps he’s by Harry’s side, taking his hand and marching in the direction they came from. Harry stumbles after him, but falls into step a moment later, hand squeezing Louis' like he knows what’s going on in Louis' big messed up head, though Louis doesn’t understand it himself.

He only gets to breathe properly when they are back at the fields, nothing in sight but the houses in the distance.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Harry asks when they reach the street. He takes Travis tighter on the leash as a cat appears on the opposite pavement and the dog barks at it, wheezing as his collar cuts against his neck as he hops on two legs.

“There is nothing to talk about.” Louis rasps, staring straight ahead and wishing they would be at the house already.

“Okay.” Harry drops the topic with a heavy sigh, Louis feels kind of bad for closing up and keeping Harry out, but at the same time Louis has no idea how to tell Harry what’s wrong, knowing he’d sound like a bloody tosser.

Louis waits as Harry brings Travis back home and a moment later, Harry unlocks the door to his own house, stepping aside to let Louis in first.

He smiles close-lipped at Harry, pulling off his shoes.

“I’m taking a shower, yeah?” He asks over his shoulder in his way into the living room, naked feet padding over to the staircase.

Harry nods. “I’ll make tea and start on lunch, yeah?”

Louis holds two thumbs up, before dashing up the stairs.

“Well, what the fuck?” He exhales when he’s alone in the bathroom, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He points a finger at his reflection. “What is wrong with you?”

His mirrored self doesn’t give him an answer, just narrows its eyes, and Louis sighs, stripping down and getting under the hot stream of the shower.

Maybe the whole thing left scars deeper on the inside than the outside lets on.

 

*    *    *

 

He rubs his hair dry with a pink fluffy towel, not bothering with a shirt as he pads down the stairs. There are voices coming from the living room and when he takes the last step, he can be sure that it’s not from the telly like he’d first thought.

With a heavy sigh, he takes in the scene in front of him. Lara and Niall are seated at the big dining table, chatting amongst each other. Harry is nowhere to be seen, but Louis figures he’s in the kitchen by the clatter of pans and pots.

Louis swallows. Though he had seen them in the hospital, he isn’t sure if he can stomach them right now, not after what happened to his body in the forest.

He has no time to turn and go back to the bedroom, because Niall sees him and the Irish lad’s face splits in two, sending a smile exposing all of his little teeth Louis' way. Lara turns and her face lights up just as bright.  

Louis feels like he’s put in the spotlight.

“Hi…guys.” He says, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. He doesn’t ask what they are doing here because he knows and he’d appreciate the gesture more if his body didn’t feel filled with heavy stones, keeping him at his spot by the stairs.

He swallows thickly.

“Hey Louis.” Lara grins, getting up and to Louis’ horror pulling him into a bone crushing hug. He stiffens and she must notice because she lets go of him a second later, her bright look shifting to concerned. “Are you good?” She asks, fingers touching his cheekbone, as if to see if he’s actually there.

“Eh,” he draws out, “yes, grand. Never felt better.”

Lara rolls her eyes. “Don’t lie, Louis.”

“What, you wanna hear all about my deep, dark, and mind-blowing thoughts?”

“Deep,” Niall cackles, “please do, your guys’ sex life really is something else.”

Louis flushes red just when Harry enters the room.

“Been thinking about us a lot?” Harry asks, placing four glasses on the table. “Is your sex life that boring?” He flashes Niall a cheeky dimpled smile.

Niall rolls his eyes, laughing unashamed. “Not anymore,” he sing-songs, “Amanda is—”

“We, really, really, really don’t want to know.” Lara groans. “Please. Not again! I’ve already heard enough..”

Niall pouts, making big innocent puppy eyes at her. “But—”

“Seriously,” Harry chirps, winking at Louis before he disappears into the kitchen once more.

Niall huffs, puffing out his cheeks like an angry hamster. “Lara, we always talk about—”

“Never,” Lara cuts in, laughing, “I’m not telling you a thing and I want to hear nothing in return, alright? No sex talk on an empty turning stomach. I can't handle it.”

“Boo, boring!” Niall crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue at her.

“I’m gonna help H.” Louis interjects their bickering, fleeing into the kitchen. He only comes to a halt when his nose is pressed between Harry’s shoulder blades.

Harry hums in greeting.

“Why are they like that?” Louis mutters into Harry’s shirt.

Harry laughs and Louis smiles, feeling less tense already. Harry turns, wrapping his arms around Louis and pulling him flush against his chest. Louis stands between his parted legs, resting the ‘good’ side of his head on Harry’s collarbone.

“How are you?” Harry murmurs in his hair.

“Better.”

“Are you lying?”

“Why is everyone assuming I’m lying?” Louis grumbles.

Harry squeezes his flanks. “C’mon Louis, we’re alone in here. If you don't wanna tell them, at least tell me, love. Remember our promise?” He looks meaningfully at him and Louis nods slowly. Yesterday just before they drifted off to sleep, they'd promised no more secrets, no more lies or hiding. “Good, so?”

“I’m better,” Louis repeats, making Harry chuckle and roll his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s the truth. I felt weird alone in the woods, but it's nothing. I promise.” Louis grins. “Just have to get used to the fact that…I’m not alone in this anymore, dunno…”

Harry’s features soften, and he kisses the tip of Louis’ nose. “I believe you, baby. Wanna tell me what happened in the forest?”

“It’s silly. I kind of…y’know?” Louis bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s stupid.” He huffs. “My body did a weird thing?” He wrinkles his nose, “like I thought I was in danger though I really wasn’t?”

“Like a panic attack?” Harry blinks, concern shining through.

“Guess so.” Louis shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s whatever, I hope it won’t happen again.”

Harry kisses his neck. “It takes time…what happened—”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, H.” Louis whines, pouting when Harry draws his head back to look at him again. “Please, just…hold me, yeah?” His voice dips lower and he swallows.

“I can do that.” Harry agrees easily, looping an arm around Louis’ back, pressing their bodies closer together until they are breathing in each other’s air.

“Thank you.” Louis whispers, hugging Harry, fingers roaming over the small of Harry’s back.

They stay in the tight embrace until something smells disgustingly burned.

“That is our lunch.” Harry mumbles, turning to the frying pan.

“What is it?” Louis asks, peeking around Harry to get a glimpse.

“I’ve no idea, anymore.”

They both sigh at the black sad blob in the pan.

“You never get to say a word about me burning pancakes ever again.” Louis muses, poking Harry’s waist coyly.

Harry giggles, squirming away from Louis' wiggling fingers. “You distracted me.”

“Nonsense,” Louis clicks his tongue, “seems like we have to order in.” He sing-songs, already skipping to the fridge where Harry pinned the menu from delivery services.

“I can’t eat pizza again,” Harry groans. Covering his face dramatically, he peeks through the gaps of his fingers at Louis. “I need something _healthy_.”

“You eat your pizza with spinach and other green stuff, that’s _healthy_.”

“It’s still _pizza_.”

“You really are an old married couple.” Lara says, leaning sideways on the doorframe and folding her arms under her boobs, levelling them with an amused gaze.

Louis scoffs, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“What am I then? The adopted child?” Lara asks.

“No, not yet. We couldn’t find anyone who wants you.” Louis smiles sweetly at her.

Harry shoots a honk of laugher out of his mouth while Lara glares at Louis. “Did you just—” She shakes her head, not finishing her sentence, but breaking into a fit of laughter not long after.

“Anyway, I crave grease too.” Lara says, rubbing her flat stomach.

“Great,” Louis smiles innocently at Harry.

“Ganging up on me?” Harry lifts his brows lazily. “And you,” He turns to Lara, “I’m surprised you even can stand the smell of pizza!”

Lara shrugs one of her shoulders, “Everybody likes pizza but you, Harry.”

“That…”

“Is true, don’t you dare to fight me on this.” Lara cuts into Harry’s sentence.

“Okay, let’s not.” Louis rolls his eyes, “It’s bloody pizza, Harry, you’ll survive. We’re young, we're supposed to eat as much unhealthy crap as we can.”

At the end, they do order pizza, since Niall loves every kind of food and is just happy to get something to still his hunger pains, already whining about dying. Lara gets an employee discount, so Harry can’t say more than the toppings he wants on his.

While everyone is waiting for the takeaway to arrive, Louis puts on a jumper that reaches his mid-thighs (and belongs to Harry) and some joggers. He leaves his feet bare. When their food comes, they gather around the dining table. It’s the first time Louis has sat there, since they use the couch for everything, including eating.

“I got a date.” Lara announces, licking some cheese from her thumb, “With Belle.”

Louis grins at her. “Awh, is she going to take care of you?”

Lara rolls her eyes at him as Harry chuckles by his side.

“I don’t need no woman to take care of me.” She says, chin raised, “but I wouldn’t mind using her work uniform in the be—”

“Shhh…” Louis blinks, unimpressed. “No one asked.”

Lara’s jaw slacks, “You just did!”

Louis shakes his head, “Did no such thing.”

“Well, if Louis isn’t asking, I sure am,” Niall wiggles his brows, “tell me more about her nursing you.”

Lara swats at his chest, “Anyway.”

“Are you nervous?” Harry asks, “Don’t you think it’s too early?”

“Nah, I don’t know. Feels like Ivana and I broke up before we actually broke up. Did I tell you she cheated on me?” Her eyes widen, “With some girl from Uni?”

Louis glances at Harry, biting his lip nervously.

“You did know.” Lara observes, but there is no hurt in her voice.

Harry nods slowly, exchanging another glance with Louis. “We hoped she’d tell you.”

Lara rolls her eyes, biting into the last slice of her pizza. “In fact, she did.”

Louis smiles sadly at his friend. “I’m sorry, Lala.”

“Don’t call me that.” She narrows her eyes.

Pouting, Louis rests his cheek on Harry’s shoulder. “Everyone loves the nicknames I give them. Right, Neil?”

Niall flips him off.

Chuckling with her mouth full, Lara leans forward on her elbows. “Belle has a nice voice.”

Harry coos at her, “Are you already in love, Lara?”

She shrugs, “I always fall fast and hard.”

Louis can sympathise.

“Look at us,” Niall grins, “we’re all taken.”

“Never saw that one coming,” Lara huffs. “Someone actually has the nerve to put up with you.” She ruffles Niall’s hair fondly, “My Irish son is all grown up now.”

He dodges her hand when she tries to touch his hair again, and scoffs at her. “Oi, I was just waiting for the right one.”

“I better be best man at the wedding.” Louis chirps, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Why?” Harry frowns. “I should be.”

“Nah,” Louis grins, “I introduced them, I get to do the honour.”

Harry shakes his head, smiling.

“You can be best man at my wedding too then,” Lara says, “she was your nurse after all.”

Louis cackles at Harry’s dumbfounded expression, “Some friends you are.” He rolls his eyes, but joins all of them when they laugh.

“Who’s going to be best man at your wedding?” Niall asks, eyes sparkling.

Louis purses his lips, “Zayn, obviously.”

Niall pouts, “That’s it, Harry is me best man then.”

Harry grins winningly at Louis. He can’t even be mad, so he squeezes Harry’s thigh under the table, knocking his knee against his.

“Who’s gonna get married first?” Lara wonders. “Wanna make a bet?”

“You haven’t even gone on a first date yet.” Harry reminds her, smiling in amusement.

“That…is a good point.” Lara frowns, pursing her lips in thought. “We’ve talked on the phone though.”

“For what, the past…two days?” Niall chuckles, “Of course Zayn and Liam would be the first ones to get married.”

Louis feels a pang of offense exploding in his chest. “Oi, maybe it’s Harry and I, thought about that?”

All heads turn toward him. He gulps.

“Oh…yeah?” Niall grins, popping the crust of his pizza into his mouth, chewing with his lips apart. Some crumbs fall out of his mouth, landing on the table.

Lara makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat.

Harry is still staring at him, and it makes Louis feel hot from head to toe, unable to help the faint blush that’s colouring his cheeks. He tugs down his neckline, self-conscious, averting his gaze to his lap before flicking his hair out of his eyes and clearing his throat. “Maybe” Louis shrugs, inhaling and smiling gently at Harry before bringing his attention back to his friends. “Just putting it out there, since we are in a relationship, not like you two.” He points at Niall and Lara. “You’re still in the dating phase, Niall. And Lara, you’re in the pre-dating-phase, so.”

“Dating phase my arse,” Niall says, “I already picked the cake for our wedding.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “Yeah? What is her favourite colour?”

Lara snorts a laugh, catching Louis' eye. They remember their talk from ages ago, when Lara grilled him about Harry.

“It’s…” Niall frowns in thought, and it looks like he's questioning his whole life.

“See, not a good start, Neil.” Louis shakes himself out of the memory. “What is her favourite movie? How does she like her tea in the morning?”

“She likes coffee, not tea.”

“Never trust a girl who likes coffee more than tea.” Louis advices with a serious face.

“Leave her alone.” Niall grunts, “Coffee isn’t too bad.”

They bicker about nonsense for a while longer, finishing their pizzas off (Niall finishes Louis’) and drinking their water. Only then Louis realises that none of them are drinking beer, like usual.

Frowning, he puts his glass down.

“What is going on?” He asks, to the laughter of his friends.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t ‘ _hm_ ’ me, Lara. Why aren’t you drinking beer, Niall?” He lifts his eyebrows, glaring at Niall expectantly, who starts to squirm in his chair. “Why aren’t you guys high yet?” It’s a good question, because that’s all they ever do, right? Louis can take a guess, but he’d rather not.

Harry sits up straighter next to him, clearing his throat. Louis locks eyes with him.

“We…have something to tell you.” He starts and…this cannot be good, right? That’s how everything ends in movies. Suddenly coldness overcomes his body, the pleasant feeling of being surrounded by his most adored people fades.

“What is going on?” He almost whimpers, fiddling with his fingers.

They are trying to get him to go back to London, they are trying to change his mind, they want him to leave. Louis gulps.

“Since it’s hard for anyone to stay away from drugs, when one has started.” Lara is the one to speak first.

“We all thought…it’s a good idea, to—” Niall inhales, “to do it with you.”

Louis blinks blankly at them, because…what?

“We’re all getting older, yeah? And when you were in the hospital, we sat together talking about…” Lara wrinkles her nose, “Where we see ourselves in ten years.”

“And none of the scenarios included getting high on coke.” Niall nods, more serious than his usual self. “I think your…attack was some sort of wake up call for all of us.”

“We all can do it together,” Lara smiles carefully, “rehab in our own homes, yeah? No institution needed.”

“I talked to Perrie,” Harry says, “asked her about how rehab works and what could help to make it easier.” He shrugs, “She thinks it would be the best to see someone professional, but there are little things that can help, too.”

Feeling overwhelmed, Louis swallows around the growing lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with emotions.

“Perrie said sport helps, jogging. Yoga, too,” Harry smiles softly, “sauna, getting it all out of your system. The first two weeks are the make it or break it phase, I guess, then after three weeks it should be easier to say…no.”

“No parties, no alcohol,” Niall sighs, “no weed.”

“Yeah, because it could be that if you leave the drugs out, you get addicted to alcohol instead.” Harry explains, “Like the body tries to…you know, get it in a different way."

“And we don’t know why you took drugs, Louis, but it wasn’t for fun, yeah? What Zayn told us and Harry…it’s not just to have a good time.” Lara says, careful not to overstep. “So, maybe it’ll be a bit harder for you to do it on your own without a therapist or something. Maybe you should consider seeing someone about that…it’s good to talk to a person outside your friends and family, yeah?”

“It was Harry’s idea, though. Credit to him.” Niall raises his glass, angling it towards Harry. “You’ve got a good boyfriend, Lou. And I’m not only saying that because Harry is my best mate.”

Louis nods, speechless.

Harry nudges his knee against his. When Louis glances at him, he can’t hold back the tears and he doesn’t care that they are not alone. He scrambles to his feet just to flop down on Harry’s lap, burying his nose in the crook of his unbelievable, amazing boyfriend’s neck, and the first tears slip out. Harry is quick to react, wrapping his arms around Louis' trembling body and breathing into his hair.

“It’s alright,” He whispers, rubbing Louis' back in soothing circles. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Louis sits back, rubbing his cheeks, ignoring the pain that booms on his jaw. “I…don’t know what to say. Honestly I’m…I’m…”

“Just think about it okay, babe?” Harry smiles a private smile, fingers drawing patterns on Louis' hips.

Louis nods, feeling choked up. He breathes out of his nose, swallowing, then turns his head towards the others, embarrassment flushing his neck red.

“Thank you guys.” He rasps, turning his upper body towards them and opening his arms. Both of them basically jump out of their seats and gather around Harry and Louis.

“Group hug!” Niall yells, as they become a mess of arms, hair, teeth, and shared air.

“We can do this.” Lara says, kissing the top of Louis' head. “We’re the best, after all.”

“You guys really are.” Louis sniffs, fingers fisting the fabric of Harry’s shirt. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Harry squeezes his sides.

“Of course.” Lara smiles, her eyes warm.

“Everything for our Tommo. You belong to our little family, remember?” Niall grins, eyes glittering with tears.

“Niall, are you crying?” Louis blinks, chuckling wetly.

“I might be.” Niall sniffs loudly. “Let me live.”

“Awh!” Harry coos, “Niall.”

Niall rolls his teared-up eyes, and sniffs again.

They all go for another group hug.

After their emotional bonding, they cuddle together on the sofa, eating crisps instead of hash brownies baked with weed and drinking lemonade, not beer. The only difference is that no one laughs randomly or falls asleep on the other right away.

“Thank you.” Louis whispers softly and pulls Harry closer. Harry kisses him and Louis thinks, he could get used to it for real this time around, being sober and only getting high on Harry for the rest of his life.

 

*   *   *

 

Well, or…maybe not so much.

Wide awake, he draws small aimless patterns on Harry’s bare outer bicep, the tip of his finger making a swirl as it follows the jet black line of the vintage-looking English boat tattoo.

It’s peaceful in the bedroom, the only sounds their breathing and the rustling of the covers when Louis shuffles his feet on the mattress. He rubs his toes together, eyes flickering between the tattoo and Harry’s sleeping face.

Harry looks so much younger like this, his skin a glowing milky white and his eyelashes darker than when in sunshine. His slightly parted lips heave a little puff of air, then he smacks them together. He snores softly, rubbing his hand under his chin and shifting his head back and forth on the pillow.

Louis sighs and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The itch underneath his skin is still there and his tongue sticks to the roof of his run-dry mouth. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing forcefully. Glancing out into the night, watching the moon shine through the window, he ruffles through his fringe, rolls his eyes, and finally gives in to the restless urge to stand up.

Without bothering to put on more than his boxers and an oversized jumper, he pulls the sleeves over his hands and makes his way downstairs to the dark and empty living room. Lara and Niall had left shortly after the clock announced midnight, both having to work an early shift in the morning. He takes the fluffy blanket from the sofa, throwing it over his shoulders like a cape before fetching the cigarette pack off the table and stepping onto the terrace. He shivers slightly as he’s greeted by the chilly night air and each of his exhales gives a little foggy puff.

He leans his forearms on the railing, dipping his head low and lighting the cig between his lips. He inhales shortly and blows the smoke out of his nostrils. It doesn’t do much to tame the cravings in his bones, but there is a saying, ‘fake it until you make it’ and Louis is all for that. So, he enjoys the nicotine like it’s what he actually desires and concentrates on the prettiness of the gleaming orange in contrast to the sleepy outside world.

It’s beautifully quiet, even his mind is just a murmur in the background. It’s a good change and the longer he sucks on the stick and stays on the terrace, the more the weight that’s pulling his shoulders down, lifts.

However, after another minute in the cold, he can’t feel his toes anymore and his legs are more like two ice blocks. Stumping out his fag, he shuffles inside, shivering when the heat in the living room hits him.

It’s four in the morning, too early to stay up. He is still awake and buzzing with restless energy, so going back upstairs is no option either since Louis doesn’t want to wake Harry up. He places the blanket back over the rest of the sofa, tapping his fingers along the fabric, thinking.

“Hm…” he draws the sound out, his throat vibrating with it. An idea is forming in his head and before he can brood over it long enough that it would start to sound stupid and ridiculous, he acts on it right away, tiptoeing up the stairs and being extra quiet when he enters the bedroom, getting his laptop out of his duffle bag, and unplugging his phone from the charger on the bedside table. He holds his breath, observing the way Harry has curled around Louis’ pillow before exhaling softly through his nose and taking his things with him downstairs.

He makes his home on the breakfast island, putting up his laptop and humming while he waits for it to come to life. Nervously, he checks over his shoulder, but he’s alone. Swallowing, he turns to the laptop. Louis types in his password and waits another beat until his home screen nearly blinds his eyes in the dimly lit kitchen.

He squirms and ruffles his hair, stifling a yawn with his wrist as he pulls up google, first searching useless things, aimlessly browsing the web just so he has something to do until that’s not enough anymore. The clock shows it’s only six, still too early to annoy Harry.

Pursing his lips, he goes on YouTube, typing in easy breakfast recipes in the search bar and clicking on the first video that the website spits out.

At eight o’clock, he’s elbow deep in preparing a proper English breakfast, sending a blessing out to the universe that they had all the things at home he needed. It’s not even that difficult, he thinks in delight and finds himself enjoying cooking way more than he originally thought he would. He puts on some music, the radio a low buzzing sound in the background, mixed with the popping of oil in the pan.

The kitchen fills with a mouth-watering smell of crispy bacon and his stomach growls as Louis breathes it in, sighing blissfully, his eyelashes fluttering. If it tastes anything like it smells, Louis can’t be too much of a disaster in the kitchen. He smiles at his feet for a moment, imagining Harry’s face when he wakes up to a fully-edible brekkie.

He scoops some fluffy scrambled eggs and three slices of bacon on a plate, leaving the rest in the pan and sits down on the stool, placing it next to his mug and laptop. Absently, he forks some, chewing while watching a cartoon on-screen. After three bites, he frowns, another idea itching in the back of his mind and just like before, he acts on it without further consideration, closing YouTube and opening a new tab.

Spooning some more egg into his mouth, he wipes the back of his hand over his lips, leaving a grease stain on his skin as he types in the programmes for Manchester University, just to have a quick look, nothing more. Louis is just curious what the university offers. That’s all.

While the website loads, he gulps down lukewarm tea, pulling a face at the taste and stuffing a slice of bacon in his mouth, chewing slowly. His eyes lighten when the website finally is up and he clicks twice, not wasting any more time to open the courses.

Louis reads through the description of a drama course and purses his lips. He always had a thing for theatre, always enjoyed watching the actors on stage perform…Hm, he goes back to the list, scrolling down until ‘ _Sociology & Criminology’ _catches his eye and the curser of his mouse does the work for him, his finger tapping the pad without his permission. His eyes skim over the description, a pang of true interest blooming in his chest and he leans more forward, squinting at the screen. It’d take him three years to get his degree. Louis has all the A-levels and scores he’d need to get into the program for 2019.

He bites his tongue in thought. It does sound like something he could imagine himself doing, something he’d enjoy. Also, Louis is already in love with the campus of the university, so that’sa plus. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take Liam to finish University, but he’d at least have a friend there at the start.

Louis is so focused in his spinning thoughts and all the options that lay just underneath the tips of his fingers that he cuts off the world outside his little bubble. It’s just him and his laptop having a silent discussion of what to do. Louis doesn’t hear anything, too concentrated on the task at hand, reading about life on campus and how to pay fees that he startles when two arms wrap around his middle from behind and a nose buries itself in the small space between his shoulder blades.

“Jesus Christ.” Louis squeaks, eyes blinking wide.

Harry chuckles, chest vibrating against Louis’ back with the sound and tames the flutter of Louis’ heart. “Not quite.” Harry murmurs with a noisy inhale through his nose. “It smells really good in here.”

Louis closes the tab of the website, leaning more into Harry’s hug and placing his hands on Harry’s. “I made brekkie.” He informs him, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

“God, I love you.” Harry moans, then freezes when he realises what he has said. The words settle like fog over them.

Louis doesn’t move an inch, staring ahead with a pounding heart and wide eyes.

Harry tries to pull away, uneven breath tickling the soft hair behind Louis’ ear but Louis slots their fingers together, keeping Harry in place. Harry rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m—” He starts but Louis is quick to cut him off.

“I love you too.” He says, voice raspier than usual. He sucks his bottom lip in his mouth with a wet sound, heart now beating in his throat more than his chest, and it probably won’t take long for it to fly out of his body with the speed that it’s at.

Harry untangles himself from him, and this time Louis doesn’t stop him. Harry spins the stool until they are face to face. “Wanna see you.” He murmurs with a shy smile, eyes careful.

Louis tilts his head to maintain eye contact, and his guts give a tug when Harry takes his face in both of his hands, thumbs sliding softly over his heated cheekbones.

He wants to joke and say, ‘all it took you to say those words was me cooking a proper breakfast’ but the words die on his tongue, his insides too mushy, his pulse too quick, and his hands too clammy.

Harry swallows, eyes never leaving Louis’.

“I love you, Harry.” Louis repeats, when he finds the courage to say it again.

The most beautiful thing happens: Harry’s eyebrows dip up and his shiny green eyes widen. There is lightning flashing over the whole of his face and the dimple pops out. His eyes flicker between Louis’ eyes, searching, like he can’t believe it.

Which, c’mon.

Louis’ bashful smile grows into a bright grin and he loops his arms around Harry’s slender waist, pulling him more between his parted legs until their pelvises bump together.

“I…I love you, too.” Harry whispers before cradling Louis’ chin and sinking his lips against Louis’ mouth. It’s a soft ghost-like touch, like Harry is too shy to actually kiss him, which is so out of character for Harry that Louis can’t help but giggle bubblily.

Harry exhales a breathy half-laugh against his lips and brings their foreheads together, lashes fluttering shut as his fingers clench in the fabric of Louis’ jumper. He lets out another of his shaky chuckles and Louis’ grin grows so wide that his cheeks sting with it. He rubs his hands up and down Harry’s sides and tilts his head up, slotting their lips together in a closed-lipped kiss.

“Are you alright, baby?” Louis asks, amused yet his voice betrays him, trembling ever so slightly with excited nerves.

“Yeah…” Harry whimpers, pecks Louis more firmly. “I’m just…” He pulls his head back, only an inch. “I’m just…really,” He laughs again, ruffling his hair, hand blindly finding its way to Louis’ flank, “Happy.” He ends, smiling down at Louis, more stable than before. “Happy, really, really goddamn bloody _happy_.” He kisses Louis again, nibbling on his bottom lip until Louis parts his lips, inviting Harry’s tongue inside.

His body frame shivers when their tongues meet, nudging each other as if it’s the first time they ever kissed.

Maybe it is. It feels different somehow, reminds Louis of their drunk night he’d spent picking flowers, the gentleness that settled over them after they made their way back inside, glancing sheepishly at each other with small warm smiles on their faces.

There is a new swirl and tugging feeling in his stomach, as a wave of warm blissful joy overcomes him and he doesn’t feel embarrassed as tears build up in the corners of his closed eyes. Relief. It feels a whole lot like utter relief. His limbs slack as he sinks more into Harry, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss with a loud inhale through his nostrils.

Their lips make a smacking sound when they part, panting into each other’s smiling mouths. Louis pats the small space on Harry’s back. Harry bumps his nose against Louis' before kissing his forehead and cheek, along his jawline, leaving out only the part that’s still coloured in an ugly mustard yellow.

Louis almost forgot about the band aid over his throat until Harry smooths over it and kisses the bare spot above it. He cuddles Louis close, resting his cheek on Louis’ shoulder.

“This is the best morning ever.” He mumbles with a dreamy sigh.

Louis stifles his smile in Harry’s wild hair.

The kitchen feels so much more homey and warm than before.

“Want me to heat up your food?” Louis asks, chuckling when Harry’s stomach gurgles. Harry erupts into soft laughter, scrunching his nose adorably as he leans back and pats Louis’ side once.

“I want to take you back to bed.” He says, eyes shifting to a darker shade, “and get you out of my jumper, which, by the way, suits you better than me.” He grins, lopsided.

“That can be arranged.” Louis nods shortly.

Harry’s eyes dart over Louis’ shoulder briefly before he lifts his brows at Louis. “What were you doing just before?” He asks. “You looked all…” His grin stretches and his finger wiggles in front of Louis’ face. He flicks his nose playfully. “Serious.”

“Huh,” Louis blinks, frowning. Right, his mind is still a tad lovey mushy from their confessions and the promise of some hot naked bed time that he forgot all about the courses he was so interested in mere minutes previous. “Oh.”

Harry takes a step back, rounding the island and switching on the kettle. He leans his bum against the counter and folds his arms across his chest, eyeing Louis curious and open.

“Just…” Louis bites his tongue, spinning his stool so he doesn’t have to crane his still sore neck to look at Harry. He leans forward, elbow points on the breakfast bar, and rests his chin on his clasped hands. “Looking at…stuff. Dunno. Nothing, really…y’know…interesting.” He gives a one shoulder shrug.

“Alright.” Harry says, unbothered, easy. Green eyes still bright.

Louis purses his lips, considering him before sighing. “Just…having a look at the classes at University…in, well, in...Manchester.”

Harry’s brows jump to the roof, eyes round and filled with positive surprise. “ _Really_?”

“ _Really_.”

The kettle clicks, announcing the water is ready but Harry ignores it, stepping towards Louis. “I’m proud of you, Louis.” He says, “I…” He rolls his eyes at himself, smiling slightly, “I…Manchester?”

Louis chuckles, “Manchester.” He confirms.

Harry’s smile widens, “Anything…that tickles your interest?”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Tickles?” He laughs.

“Yeah…” Harry drawls slowly, “tickles.”

“Some classes _spark_ my interest, yes.” Louis grins, shrugging and folding his arms on the surface. He sniffs his nose, rubbing below it before looking up at Harry again and giving another tiny bashful shrug. “Not sure yet if I wanna do it since…I want to get better first before jumping into…some stressful student experience, but…I’ll keep my options open and I really like the campus.”

Harry shakes his head, smile still in place. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He licks his lips, “Actually, there is something I wanted to show you?”

“Oh, is there?”

He giggles, “Shut up, yeah, there is something I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise.”

“I…yeah, okay.” Louis nods, sliding off the stool. “I’ll put on some pants then.”

Harry pouts, eyes roaming over Louis’ naked thighs. “A shame.”

“Ha.” Louis barks, turning and wiggling his bum. Harry’s laughter follows him all the way up the stairs.

He’s quick to throw on some jeans, leaving the button and zipper undone. He slips his bare feet into the first pair of shoes he finds, which happen to be his mud-smeared once-white vans that have smiley faces drawn on them and reenters the kitchen in a rush, excited and giddy. He finds Harry drinking tea and staring out of the window, lost in his own head.

“I’m ready.” Louis announces. Harry startles, and Louis laughs quietly when Harry blinks owlishly at him.

“It’s…not far.” Harry says, “uh, and actually, dunno, it’s not really finished yet?” He wrinkles his nose at himself, putting the ceramic down on the worktop and biting his knuckle. “I…am oddly nervous.” He admits quietly with a smile, his thin skin still between his teeth.

“Why? What is it?”

“C’mon.”

To Louis' utter surprise, they go to the garage. Harry glances at him the whole way and every time they make eye contact, Harry directs his gaze at the ground, dragging his feet more than he’s actually walking. “You know you don’t have to show me, if you don’t want to.” Louis says easily, nudging his hand against Harry’s.

Harry shakes his head, tugging on a loose curl and rolls his eyes, smiling. “Nuh-hu, I wanna show you, it’s alright. I hope you…like it, s’all.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” Louis frowns at Harry’s bashfulness.

“You haven’t seen it yet, maybe you’ll hate it.”

“Harry—”

“No, okay, yeah. Let’s just.” He opens the gate to the garage, slapping the light switch. The bulbs buzz above them as they flicker on, and it takes a moment to get used to the bright cold lighting. Louis squints for his eyes to adjust, then he gasps out loud.

“Oh my—”

“I…do… _ugh_.” Harry laughs breathily, ruffling his hair and covering his eyes with his hand, peeking at him through the gaps.

Louis steps closer, all the hair on his body raising as he gets a better glimpse of it. “Bloody hell Harry!” He exclaims. It’s a painting, a beautiful, breathtaking and earth-splitting, mind-swirling painting…and it’s unmistakably Louis.

It’s an obvious outline of his face, his hair honey-coloured, swirled back from his forehead. Where the features of his face would be, there are stokes of sunny yellow, dipped into pinks and blues and all the bright colours one can think of blend together. Little dots, paired with bigger ones are freckled along the hairline and emphasise his sharp cheekbones. His neck is defined, drawn in long gentle strokes of a greenish blue. It's him. A colourful chaotic bittersweet mess.

He gasps like a fish at it, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his boyfriend painted the masterpiece in front of his eyes. It belongs in a museum, not tucked away in a cold garage.

The tips of his ears heat up.

“You like it?” Harry asks, smile audible in his voice. He steps behind Louis, hooking his chin on Louis’ shoulder and looping his arms around Louis’ stomach which fills with little butterfly wings as Harry’s breath tickles his cheek.

“Like?” Louis squeaks, “Like?” He repeats in an unbelieving laugh. “Love, I love it Harold.”  

Harry chuckles, the sound ringing in Louis’ ear. He kisses Louis’ skin. “I’m glad you love it then.” He hides his face in between the space of Louis' shoulder and neck.

“When…when did you create this?” Louis asks, swallowing, eyes still fixed on the painting in front of him, following the long strokes the brush left.

“Hm, after our first date?” Harry murmurs, “After you met my mum? Felt inspired.”

“It’s so beautiful, Harry.” Louis whispers, oddly choked up. He clicks his tongue. “It’s…you’re something else, Harry Styles.”

“I’m your ‘something else’.”

“You’re my favourite person.” Louis responds, still awestruck and, so, so goddamn happy his chest might explode any second now.

“You’re my favourite person, too.” Harry says kissing the top of Louis’ head.

“Why is it in the garage?”

“I didn’t want you to see it before it’s finished…but I couldn’t wait any longer. I got all excited to show you.” He giggles boyishly, hot air puffing in Louis’ hair.

Louis turns in Harry’s arms, looping an arm around Harry’s neck and bringing their lips together, immediately deepening the kiss. An unstoppable shiver runs down Louis’ spine and he steps onto his tiptoes, needy for more.

Harry hums against his lips, smoothing his hands up and down Louis’ back before fisting Louis’ hair, hips rolling against Louis’.

“Thank you for showing me.” Louis murmurs against Harry’s parted lips which try to catch his own again. “Thank you for everything Harry, I love you so…” He exhales, chuckling without tone, “so much.”

“Love you.” Harry says before dipping his head low and sealing their mouths together.

They kiss until there isn’t any oxygen left in their lungs and they have to break apart but only for a second until their lips find their own way back to meet each other.

Louis wants this day to be sempiternal. When his lashes flutter open and he sees Harry’s already looking at him with the softest of smiles, he thinks the feeling is mutual.

Yeah. Louis would love to stay in this shabby garage the rest of his life, if he gets to keep Harry.

Like their names carved on the tree, like the painting of Louis.

Their souls are sempiternal.

 

***    *    ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked it* 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! Merry Christmas Eve, and Merry Christmas in general, I hope you guys have a blessed week and are ready for the new year! loads of love xx


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone! may 2019 be a wonderful year that treats you all well, brings you happiness and luck and let all your dreams come true. 
> 
> without a long note this time around, enjoy chapter 19! loads of love xx

 

***    *    ***

 

They say love is all you need. They say time heals all wounds. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Well, whoever “ _ they _ ” are, clearly they are fucking lying. Louis isn't all too astonished by that fact. It just confirmed that you shouldn't believe everything so-called wise people say, because they're just that: people. And a lot of people are liars. Humanity, seriously.

Harry articulates how much he loves Louis every single time he gets a chance: in passing, under the covers in the morning, late at night when the moon is their only witness, when their friends are with them and Harry and Louis are snuggled close. And if the fact that wise people lie leaves Louis cold, the fact that Harry truly loves him makes Louis hide his smile in the neckline of his tee and murmur the words back with a fluttering heart and rosy cheeks. However, it's kind of sad that the words alone don't heal his deep bruised scars. They mollify, sure, but there is no all-curing magic sparkling in his veins that lets him become a superhuman immune to the ache, the craving, and the sadness.

Not after a couple of days, not a week later, or even two weeks spent in their exquisite little love bubble.

Of course, that doesn’t count for his visible wounds that were carved in his skin. They healed a while ago, after unnecessary visits to the hospital and careful nursing from Lottie. His jaw is free from all those yellow, purple, and red colours. He, thankfully, got rid of the ugly white bandage that covered most of his throat and it doesn’t hurt anymore when he swallows. Though like Belle foretold, the knife left a scar, which Harry kisses every night before they go to bed. Louis' ribs are better too, don’t sting with each breath he takes, which is a good thing, brilliant, top-notch.

The wounds Louis is going on about are deeper, probably just as deep as his love for Harry. But all the love, all the time that passes doesn’t make for the nightmares, panic attacks, and paranoid thoughts to go away. With everything that's going on, Louis hasn't thought much about going to university anymore. It’s all a tad too much at the moment with Louis suffering at night, during the day, when he’s surrounded by his most adored people in the whole wide world and when he’s alone by himself.

Harry's admission about wanting to quit the dealing was also put on hold. He is back to selling drugs, couldn’t hide out any longer and is more out than by Louis’ side most of the time. It’s sad, but they knew it would happen eventually no matter what they want for themselves. You can’t nap away your problems like they tried in the past or hide out in a safe space. It just doesn’t work. So reality caught up too quickly and Harry is on the streets again, bandana in place, packets of drugs hidden in his backpack. His work phone is turned on and buzzing all the goddamn time, it's driving them both nuts.

So yeah, being alone by himself is the worst, to be honest. Louis hates it more than ever before. The moment Harry’s left with a last spoken ‘ _ I love you, _ ’ Louis becomes paranoid: What if Hawk is going to try something again? What if someone breaks into the house, while Louis is in the shower or the garden? What if Hawk is going after Harry this time around and Louis isn’t there to protect his boy? What if someone else is going to hurt Harry? What if someone is hiding somewhere in this house and waited until Harry left so he could beat Louis up? What if…What if…What if…

What if…

Needless to say, Louis’ instincts are aggravated and  aflame. He’s ready to fight, run, or freeze, and every noise in the house makes him jump to his feet with a wild pounding heart and a layer of cold sweat on his skin. He can’t watch telly, because if he did, he wouldn’t hear anything, the laughter of the characters would drone out every other sound out and that just doesn’t work for him. He can’t take a nap, because it’d leave him vulnerable - he tried it and literally slept with one eye open, which wasn’t really sleeping at all. He can’t shower, because have you seen all those horror movies? All the people get murdered in the bloody shower. He doesn’t want to die whilst being naked. Thanks, but no.

One time, he was upstairs, changing his clothes because he spilled milk all over his front, when there was a muffled noise coming from downstairs. His body took over instantly and he started to shake uncontrollably and before his brain could catch up what was actually real and just his imagination, he then heard another noise and that was the last straw.

With trembling hands he had to try twice to call Harry until he hit the right buttons on his slippery phone and ended up weeping into the line while his body frame was wracked by waves of fear and his jelly knees shook like leaves in a storm. He cried and couldn’t calm down until Harry started crooning into the line and Louis relaxed enough to actually tell him the problem.

That happened three times. Three. Times.

It’s embarrassing. He feels stupid and childish for his surreal paranoia no matter how many times Harry tells him it's alright. It's just  _ not. _

Now, when Harry has to leave, Lara pops by with a brand new story to tell about her and Belle, whilst kicking the ball lazily back and forth in the garden. Or, Niall storms into the house with a blinding smile that brings warmth in the empty house, board game trapped under his arm and fresh lemonade that happened to be a leftover from the Diner. Lottie, of course, is in on the plan as well, asking Louis to join her for a walk through the fields or whining about being alone in her own home and hating it, since she doesn’t work at the moment and Tommy works too much for her spoiled liking.

So yeah, his boyfriend makes sure Louis is surrounded by people at all times. Obviously no one let Louis in on that plan. He, however, is smart enough and figured it out soon enough and to be honest, he really can’t say he minds too much. It’s a little relief to his usually distressed body.

Tommy offered pills for basically everything that’s wrong with Louis: pills for his sleep, pain, headaches and the anxiety attacks. However, Louis declined the offer because he is  _ clean _ now. Yup, super clean — no drugs, no alcohol and no bloody _ happy yay yay go wild _ pills. In theory it sounds magnificent - he has improved, amazing, great, brilliant. In reality, he wants to jump off the nearest cliff.

The craving is anchored deep in his bones. His throat itches and his hands start to shake at random times. He cries more often than not about the smallest of things. He can’t find his other sock? Damn, sounds reasonable to bawl all over the bedroom floor. He got shampoo in his eyes? Fucking hell, the whole world is against him, he cries, angrily trying to rinse out his eye without going blind while sobbing in the shower. There is no milk for his morning tea in the house? Let’s throw a goddamn tantrum like a moody child.  

Or, nothing happens at all, and he is numb, sitting on the sofa staring at a blank telly screen with his mind shut up, just a quiet murmur in the background he easily can ignore. He likes to be alone at those times, creeps under the covers of the bed and buries his nose in Harry’s pillow, inhaling. All while Lara, Niall, or Lottie are in the living room and he can’t even be bothered to feel slightly bad, since he is utterly and thoroughly numb. He can’t even sleep then, though he’s exhausted. He just lays in the bed until one of his friends checks up on him with tea, cookies, and a gentle smile. None of them are really mad at him when he gets over-emotional or, well, has no emotions at all in his bones, because they all know and they are the best friends he could ever have asked for. 

To all of their pleasant surprise, Louis has started cooking — properly. He watched cooking videos on YouTube and when they all sat around the dining table one evening and praised Harry for the great meal, Harry was quick to direct the attention to Louis and announced it truly was all Louis' doing. Everyone had laughed, unbelieving, and Louis tried to take no offence in that, but when the laughter died down, stunted praise went around the table a second time, all whilst Louis tried to hide his smile on Harry’s shoulder, who grinned proudly at him. So, yeah, Louis loves cooking, loves creating meal after meal and isn't too shy to experiment. It keeps his mind in the present, the smells that fill the kitchen relax him. However, sometimes he gets diffused and burns…everything, basically.

Not that often anymore, but it happens and he has to start all over again, or throw a tantrum or go back upstairs and swearing he won’t ever leave the bed again. The more he cooks (or bakes) the easier it becomes to stay focused and in a good mood. He might not eat a lot, if he does it he throws it up again later that night since his guts are irritated and he gets nauseous very easily, but he enjoys the faces of his friends, since they help him so much already and he wants to do something nice for Harry when he gets back from the streets, starved and dead tired.

The cooking and his nausea aside, every time his thoughts wander to the idea of just stopping it all with the panacea that’s hidden under the bed (or, maybe not Louis never dared to actually checked if Harry changed the hiding spot for his drugs), he looks at the painting of himself that’s now hung up in Harry’s bedroom. He explained to Louis, when he asked about the bright colours, that, that’s how he sees him: brightly shining, beautiful and vivid, strong and chaotic in the best of ways. And that gives Louis the courage not to just ruin it all and get his hands on any drug he can possibly find in this house.

It’s hard, probably the hardest thing he had ever to do in his life, but he does it anyway. He wants to show Harry that he really wants to be better, for Harry, for himself, for their future, whatever that will hold. 

Harry is his solution. When they are alone, Louis sinks into the heat of Harry or lets Harry take care of him. When they are alone, everything is perfect. They spend all their time under the covers hidden away from this sick world they live in and forget about everything for a little while. They don’t fuck each other anymore, they make love. It’s cheesy, super cheesy. It’s beautiful, Louis thinks. 

The past weeks have been a hell of a ride, ups and down, more downs than ups and Louis is just glad that everything involving Harry is great and easy. When he’s with Harry, he has no real need for drugs, when he’s with Harry he isn’t scared, when he’s with Harry he feels safe and warm and giddy. Of course the craving is still there, it’d be foolish to pretend otherwise, but it’s easier to resist. Harry distracts him, pulls him in, takes over every thought, and makes all the negative feelings fade. 

Harry is also very understanding, knows when to just hold Louis without words, knows when to do a joke here and there and (it’s rare but it happens) when to leave Louis completely alone to mourn and be sad for a little while until Louis is able to breathe a bit better and find his way downstairs, hugging Harry and telling him how much he loves him.

Together they take walks with Travis, go out for lunch or dinner, watch movies in the cinema or linger lazily on the couch. When Harry paints (because that is a thing now, of which Louis is very proud), Louis watches silently, smoking a cig and drinking tea. Louis loves watching Harry paint, his face all concentrated and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, a little frown crinkling his forehead adorably and paint smashed on his cheeks and his curls a wild bird nest, held back by a bandana. His ear is apparently the best place to put his used brush while he smokes a cig too or mixes colours or just sits there staring at the masterpiece he created.

It’s all fascinating to observe. Louis is in awe about his boyfriend. Harry has so much potential, so much talent and it’s beautiful to see that he embraces it fully.  

These weeks have  been eventful and emotionally exhausting. It all leads to Louis and Harry sitting in the car on their way to visit Anne.

“Tired?” Harry asks, bringing Louis flashing into the present. He blinks his lids open, glancing at Harry, smiling softly. Louis hides his yawn behind his wrist, and Harry chuckles. “I take that as a yes.”

“Sorry,” Louis murmurs, voice extra raspy. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I know.” The corner of Harry’s mouth turn south, and he rubs little circles on Louis' thigh with his thumb. It’s soothing and doesn’t help Louis’ exhaustion, but he adjusts his leg more into the touch anyway. “We’ve to think about something that helps better than milk and honey, now.” He muses with a quiet sigh.

“S’alright, baby,” Louis lays his hand on top of Harry’s. “I’m good. I’m looking forward to seeing Anne.” He changes topics and thankfully, the somber expression on Harry’s face ceases and modifies to a more enthralled one, green eyes a shade brighter when he glances at Louis for a split-second.

“She’s been waiting for you to come around.” Harry confides, lips twitching to the side, like he’s trying to restrain an amused smile. He taps along the steering wheel to the hum of the radio. Louis follows the movement before his eyes snap to Harry’s face. “It’ll be a lovely surprise, that you’re with me today.” Harry shoots him a glowing look.

Louis couldn’t see Anne because of obvious reasons, they wanted to avoid the questions of his rainbow face at all costs and both knew she wouldn't be fooled with the poor explanation he'd fell down the staircase or ran into a wall. So, how do you explain a beaten up face to a mother without her worrying? You can’t. That’s why Harry visited her alone and Louis stayed at home or at Lottie’s.

“Oh yeah?” Louis prompts, “She’s been nagging you?”

“I believe she’d rather see you than me.”

“That can’t be true.” Louis huffs a quiet chuckle, drawing along the V of the outline of Harry’s fingers. He taps the knuckle of Harry’s ring finger. Harry’s hand gives a twitch on his knee. Pondering, Louis swallows, “Is it…a good idea for me to…y’know?”

The long moment it takes for Harry to answer him, tells him what he needs to know. With a rub below his nose he turns his head to the window without actually seeing anything.

“There is no reason why you shouldn’t come with.” Harry murmurs. “I think Cowell will be out for the day. Doing whatever docs do when they aren’t in the Institution.”

Louis snorts at his last statement,and  he tilts his head back at the rest of the seat, rolling it along until he gets a good look at Harry. “Alright, nothing will happen. Got it.” 

Harry rolls his eyes at him, and Louis grins toothily. Harry pawns at him with a giggled, “Stop it, don’t make me question it all over again.” 

“Alright, alright, Styles. Have it your way.” 

Hooded eyes lock with his and he lets out a barked short laugh. 

“Unfair.” Harry mutters under his breath. “Absolutely unfair.” 

“What? What’s unfair, babe, huh?”

Harry shakes his head, fingers twitching under Louis’ hand.

“Lemme concentrate on the road. We’re going to see my mum, we don’t have time for naughty thoughts. Behave yourself, Lou.”

Louis pouts, leaning over and pressing his nose in Harry’s curls, inhaling his signature spicy cologne. His fingers walk up Harry’s bare arm, lingering on his bicep. He can feel Harry shiver in the driver’s seat.

“This is me behaving myself.” Louis whispers right in Harry’s ear before nibbling at its lobe, squeezing Harry’s thigh that tenses under his teasing touch. The car jerks forward and Louis grins against Harry’s skin, planting a little kiss on his neck, “Oops.” Louis breathes, hand creeping up until he can feel the outline of Harry’s cock.

“Fucking—” Harry cuts himself off. Despite his words prior, he moves his leg more to the armrest, giving Louis access to feel him up. “Hell!” He finishes on an exclamation when Louis brushes over the head.

“There a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Louis nods, detaching himself from Harry entirely and propping his shoes on the dashboard.

“Hey!” Harry’s attempt to pout is ruined by the laugh that leaves his lips.

“Eyes on the road, young man. Don’t you dare crash the car, I was promised to see your lovely mum today.” Louis winks cheekily, earning a box to his bicep. He rubs the spot with a faux-grumpy expression.

“Unbelievable, you are.” Harry shakes his head at him, smile unwavering.

“Unbelievable like magic.” Louis widens his eyes, coaxing another laugh from Harry.

“Star dust.” Harry deadpans.

Louis chuckles, and after that he starts behaving, keeping his hands to himself, though the thoughts about giving Harry a road-head is tempting, they are getting closer to Manchester and Louis doesn’t want to put Harry in the awkward situation to face his mother in a post-orgasm state. Louis has seen it, Harry's face might be the prettiest then, but not very subtle.

“Did you know a whale’s penis is called a dork?”

“No, Harold I did not.” Louis says, highly amused. “What’ll I do now with this very useful information, eh?”

“If you throw in the word ‘dork’ in a random conversation I’ll…”

“Suck a dork?” Louis giggles, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry snorts, pulling into the parking lot of the Institution. “I’ll suck you in the loo later.”

Louis purses his lips, “This is way too easy of a bet.” He removes his seatbelt, placing his feet down and fidgeting with his hair for a moment before his eyes settle on Harry, considering the way his brows are lifted, like Harry can’t wrap his head around the possibility that Louis will say no to head or a bet. Both would be a first, and who’d Louis be if he backed out now that Harry is looking at him like that. “Bet.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Shut up, we’re in an Institution, don’t wanna be disrespectful.” Louis rolls his eyes, opening the door.

“Then, on the road. Whatever.” Harry shrugs easily.

“And you told me to behave myself.” Louis mutters, getting out and slamming the door shut. He rounds the car like clockwork, Harry throws an arm over his shoulder and they don’t falter in their steps towards the entrance.

They greet Perrie, who’s sitting behind the glass window, smacking her gum and swirling a finger in her hair when they approach her. She looks up, blue eyes two little happy beams as she recognises them. “Hi guys.” She chirps, her voice oddly echoing around the box-room she’s sitting in. “Here for a visit, I reckon?” She glances between them, friendly smile growing to a grin. “Haven’t seen ya around lately, Louis!” 

Louis licks his lips, squeezing Harry’s side and leaning closer to be better heard by Perrie. “Yeah, lovely seeing you, Pez. This dork here—” Louis talks right over Harry’s amused snort, “didn’t want to share me lately.”

They talk a bit more, exchanging another round of gentle smiles and ‘We have to get lunch together sometime’ yada, yada, then Harry pushes the buzzing door open to the closed-area.

“See, that was way too easy.” Louis grins at him as they make their way to the definitely not-a-jail-cell.

“I know.” Harry smirks. “You just called me a whale’s dick. Does that mean my cock is that b—”  

“Wait.” Louis cut in with narrowed eyes. “You just wanted me to call you a dick in front of someone. How long did you wait for this opportunity?”

“That.” Harry giggled boyish. “And, I’ve a thing for road-head.”

“All you needed to do was ask, love.” Louis pats his bum as they reached the closed red door.

Harry rolls his eyes and kisses his forehead, grabbing the handle with the other hand he knocks three light times.

“And you called me unbelievable.” Louis mutters.

“Like magic.” Harry breathes before they both school their expressions to something more presentable and Harry pushes the door open, after they heard Anne’s muffled voice calling out to them.

“Louis!” Anne grins, getting up from the chair with outstretched arms. She swoops him into a big hug and presses him close. “It’s so wonderful to see you, where’ve you been hiding?” She asks, holding him at arm’s length to get a better look at him. “You look tired, are you doing okay, dear?” Concern flashes over her face and Louis can’t stand it.

He widens his smile to make up for the bags under his eyes. “I’m brilliant, Anne, now that I’m here.” Her smile returns and Louis counts that as success. “It’s great to see you, Anne. You look lovely.”

“Oh, dear,” She sighs, squishing his cheek how only a mother is allowed to. Then, her gaze cuts to Harry over Louis' shoulder and her smile disappears completely. She clears her throat, arms falling to her sides as she takes a step back. She eyes her son warily.

The warmth that filled his body mere seconds ago cools down. The atmosphere in the room shifts and invisible fog appears out of nowhere, winding around Louis' frame and raising the hair on his arms as Anne takes another step towards the window.

“Hi mum,” Harry tries for a smile, but it falters when Anne’s face remains a cold mask, “how’re you?” He comes to stand next to Louis, fingers nudging Louis' knuckles and he doesn’t have to look away from Anne to know that Harry is as confused by Anne’s behaviour as he is.

“I am a tad disappointed, honey.” Anne states bluntly, and Harry stiffens by Louis' side. “I heard something and I sure hope it’s not true.”

There is an awkward moment of silence. Louis represses a shiver, his throat itches with the urge to clear it, but even that small noise would be too loud in the room.

“Uh…w-what did you hear?” Harry asks, swallowing audibly. His hand bumps Louis’ again and this time Louis laces their fingers together, trying to comfort, to soothe out the distress that’s radiating from Harry’s stiff body in waves.

“Let’s sit down.” Anne gestures to the chairs with both hands, though her body language is anything but inviting. “We’ve got to talk.”

“Should I g— I better…” Louis stammers, stumbling over his own words, thumbing over his shoulder with his free hand, “go? This sounds like…I should le—”

“You’re staying.” Harry and Anne say in unison. Louis' eyes widen, stunned at the outburst.

Louis blinks, owlish. “Uh, a-alright, okay.” He untangles himself from Harry, finding his hand to be clammy. He rubs the sweat off on his jeans as he makes it to the bed, carefully sitting down on the edge and folding his hands together in his lap. This sounds all too serious.

Harry sits on the chair across from Anne and they both stare at each other.

“What is it?” Harry finally questions with a small voice. The contrast from his usual confused drawl is unsettling.

“You sell drugs.” Anne blurts out immediately and Louis' heart drops to his feet. Harry takes a sharp inhale, sitting upright and fumbling with his neckline uncomfortably. Louis can see the trembling of his hands even from the distance. Harry casts his eyes down on the tabletop, curls tickling in his crestfallen face. All possibilities of turning the situation around and lying are lost.

“How…did you find out?”  

“I overheard a conversation.” Anne whispers, her hard glare turning softer at the edges. “I couldn’t believe it, but it makes sense.”

Louis should leave; they should do this privately. However, he isn’t capable of feeling his legs and he doesn’t have the courage to speak up, so he can’t do more than sit stiffly on the bed, watching the love of his life fight with the person that birthed him.

Harry inhales deeply. “I do sell drugs.” The statement sucks up all the oxygen in the room-not-a-cell. Before anyone can say more than that, Anne’s pretty eyes well up and she heaves a sob. Harry is out of his seat in a second.

“Don’t touch me.” Anne whimpers, when Harry goes for a hug.

The hurt look on Harry’s face doesn’t go unnoticed and Louis' throat closes up. His heart breaks as Harry’s shoulders slump and he winds his arms around his middle as if to hold himself together.

Anne gets up from her chair too, backing toward the window like a cornered animal. “Why?” She asks, rubbing an angry hand over her wet cheeks. “Why, Harry? I know you can do better, I know you— you…” Anne cough and sniffs.

When Harry doesn’t say anything, his mother continues, “I raised you better than this! At least, I thought so…what is it, Harry? Why? Did you get involved with the wrong people? D’you take drugs yourself? Does…does Gemma know about this?” Her eyes widen with sudden panic, and she covers her mouth with a shaky hand. “Does she sell drugs, too?” Her voice breaks and cracks at the end of her question, horror flashing over her ashen face.

Harry’s face crumbles, and he scrubs a hand across the whole of it and breathes in through his nose loudly. “Gemma doesn’t sell drugs. She doesn’t know.” He whispers brokenly.

There is a short pause. Anne inhales and exhales relieved, then her face closes up again, unreadable and stern — furious. “Why? Why’re you doing this?”

Harry hugs his body tighter and Louis' blood starts to rush in his ears. Harry glances at Louis and when their eyes meet, sadness sweeps through Louis' bones and he gets to his feet. He can’t let Harry fight this battle alone. They are partners after all. This is getting out of hand and Louis can’t just sit on the bed like a passenger, watching Harry’s world fall apart.

He clears his throat, rubbing circles across Harry’s smaller back. Harry leans against his side and Louis can feel the shake of Harry’s body. “Let’s calm down.” He says with the best neutral voice he can muster, “Let’s not fight. This is hard for everyone involved, alright?” He looks from Anne to Harry and back.

Anne takes a big breath and fumbles with the tips of her hair. “Louis, I love you, darling but this is between me and Harry. I don’t think—”

“Anne, I know this is between you and Harry, but I don’t think yelling at each other will help. Harry did not get involved with the wrong people and he doesn’t take drugs, never did.” Louis cups the nape of Harry’s neck, before letting his fingers wander over the knots of his spine, then he lets it fall to his side, fist bumping in Harry’s hip in the process. Harry stares at his shoes.

“So, what is it then?” Anne asks, eyes flickering from Louis to Harry. “Tell me.”

“Louis, I think you should go.” Harry says, voice nothing more than a ghost-whisper. “Wait for me outside, please?”

Blinking, Louis frowns at Harry in concern. “Are you sure?” He clears his throat, so the hurt that he’s feeling won’t shine through.

Harry nods curtly with a begging glint in his eyes. Louis licks over his front teeth, before nodding his agreement. If Harry wants to talk to his mum in private, Louis can’t press to stay, now can he? “Alright, if…you need me, I’m right on the other side of that very door, okay?” He says, giving a slight sad smile to Anne and squeezing Harry’s side. Then he closes the door behind him, leaning against the solid wall next to it with a long-suffering exhale. He closes his eyes briefly.

It only takes three shaky breaths until the voices in the other room raise and the other patients in the get-together-and-make-friends-slash-living-room turn their heads towards him, all too curious for their own good. Louis forces a thin smile on his lips, hoping it will come across as calming and no one will actually dare to ask what’s going on in there.

Anxiously, Louis taps the tip of his shoe against the floor and nibbles at his bottom lip before pinching it with his fingers. The pain is distracting and Louis doesn’t let up from his swollen lip until one of the male nurses comes storming his way like a bull, ready to stab his horns through the wood.

Bluntly, the male nurse ignores Louis' existence and goes straight for the door, handle already in a tight grip, ready to bust into the room - and Louis, well, he can’t let that happen. He stops the nurse with the rest of willpower in his bones. He tugs on the fabric between his shoulder-blades.

The nurse turns to him, and his eyebrows jump to his hairline in surprise. “Who’re you?” He asks, eyeing Louis up and down, his lip snarled on the left end.

“They just need an mo’ alone.” Louis says, ignoring the question and nodding his chin toward the closed door. It’d be the worst idea to go in there right now, since the conversation isn’t about Harry dropping out of Uni but about drugs and illegal gang-stuff.

Yeah, no, if Louis has one job today, it’s keeping people out of this mess.

“Yeah, well I don’t think so.” The guy states, glancing over his shoulder. The other patients still are sending too curious looks their way and sure, Louis can see that. They are in an institution for mentally ill people, clearly fighting is a no-go and all.

“You’re not going in there.” Louis says, more stern than he probably has any right to be, standing more straight and shoving lightly at the guy’s shoulders, successfully bringing some distance between the door and the nurse. The bloke crosses his arms, biceps bulging. Louis represses a gulp at the sight. “Please, just…just wait a couple of minutes, alright? It’s a mum-son talk, you know how that goes, innit?” Louis tries to joke rolling his eyes exaggeratedly and plastering a fake grin on his face, shrugging a shoulder as if it’s nothing.

“You’re his little boyfriend, aren’t ya?” The guy asks, totally catching him off guard as he steps in Louis' space. Well, at least he has a distraction now, Louis muses. His left eyebrow twitches in stress.

“I am. Though I wouldn't say I'm that little.” Louis affirms, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, do we know each other?” The moment the question left his lips, Louis recalls the unpleasant run-in with the guy in front of him. Harry turned cold the second he laid his eyes on the guy and Louis also remembers the sneer sent his way as they laced their fingers together. Their last interaction went so goddamn south, Louis won’t stand a chance.

That very sneer returns on the ugly mug and Louis has no time to stop the guy from entering the room like a wild angry tornado. The door flies open, slamming against the wall with a bang just when the words “ _ Quit dealing with drugs, Harry! _ ” come shouted out of Anne’s mouth.

Both of them freeze and Louis' hands that curled into the fabric of the shirt from the guy, drop to his sides in defeat. 

For a long, long, beat no one is breathing. Literally everyone is silent and Louis can feel millions of eyes burning holes through the back of his hair. 

Shit, fuck, shit, shit,  _ fuck _ . 

Harry is the first one to react, slowly turning towards them with red flushed and cheeks and ruffled hair sticking up in every possible direction, his rimmed wet eyes finding Louis’ over the shoulder of the nurse and — yep, Louis fucked up big time. 

This is a disaster. 

“I think, it’s time for you two to leave.” The nurse barks, as the shock has worn off. “Anne, let’s give you some meds to calm you down.” 

“Don’t you dare…” Harry warns, pointing a finger at the guy and stepping closer. 

Louis jumps when a hand suddenly taps his shoulder. A man with greyish hair stands behind him, tall and with a pushed-out chest, white coat just an inch too short to touch the floor. He pushes the glasses on the tip of his nose back and smiles tightly at Louis and before he can do more than frown in confusion, the man winds his way into the room. The bloke that was just so tough not a second ago, lowers his gaze to the floor, apparently finding the square patterns very interesting.

Louis can’t be bothered to watch him any longer, because Harry takes the sharpest inhale Louis has ever heard. His green eyes widen as they land on the man with the white coat. 

“Harry.” The man drawls, rolling the R’s of Harry’s name over his tongue as if he’s tasting an expensive scotch. “I didn’t know you’d be here today, what an extraordinary pleasant surprise.” 

“Dr. Cowell,” Harry nods, face wiped free of any emotion. “It was a spontaneous idea. We were just around the corner.” He lies through his teeth. 

“Who’s we?” Simon asks and Harry freezes, noting his mistake. 

“Harry and I.” Louis chimes in quickly, gaining everyone’s attention. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Louis.” He outstretches his hand for a shake. Dr. Cowell is quick to react, realisation crossing his face and a too delighted smile shows on his thin lips. 

“Louis!” He exclaims, shaking Louis' hand in a firm grip. “I’ve heard so much about you.” The doctor says flatly. “A pleasure to finally, finally put a face to the name.” Dr. Cowell grins like a shark and Louis' stomach turns, because…Dr. Cowell, huh? Simon, huh? Ringing any bells? — Yeah, Louis thinks, they ring in high alarm. 

The fear that settles over his body is visible on Harry’s face for a split second and, fuck, shit, fuck. This day is messed up, they should’ve stayed in bed. 

Louis clears his throat, inwardly shaking the uneasy feelings off of himself and plastering on a smile that stretches his lips awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, Doc.” Louis says with a calm voice and he mentally pats himself on the back for keeping a steady tone, free from the fear in his gut. 

Simon sends him another grin, showing two rows of unnaturally white teeth, then he turns back to the room at large, gaze fixed on Anne, who’s still standing in front of the window, trying to appear smaller and smaller the longer the blue eyes are on her. Then Cowell looks at Harry and sighs, “What’s going on here?” 

“They were fighting, apparently about dru—” 

Simon cuts the nurse off with an inconsequential flicker of his hand, “I can take it from here, you can leave. Thank you.” He continues, now directed at Harry, “Please, join me in my office, Styles.” 

“Why?” Anne asks, speaking up for the first time  since they were interrupted so rudely. “Doctor, we can talk. It’s all right.” 

Bluntly but not surprisingly, Anne gets ignored and Simon levels Harry with a stern glare. 

To see his boyfriend submit to someone so easily is terrifying, the way Harry hunches his shoulders in defeat, like a kicked puppy obeying the orders of its angry owner. He kisses Anne’s temple whispering something in her ear that sounds like ‘I’m sorry’ and gently touches Louis' sides giving him a tiny smile, before following Simon Cowell, doctor and his bloody drug boss down the hallway and disappearing into the office. The door closes behind him and Louis can’t do more than stare, flabbergasted. 

It must be shock, he thinks, not feeling his bones but noticing the missing air in his lungs and the rush of blood in his pounding ears. 

“The show is over!” Someone calls, clapping their hands to gain attention, probably another nurse. “Let’s all play a board game, c’mon, everybody!” 

It’s not enough to get Louis to move or blink, his eyes stinging as they start to dry. 

“Louis, darling.”  

He swallows.

“Come inside, please.” 

He shuts his lids.

“Please.” 

Louis turns towards a very teary-eyed Anne and sinks into her arms the moment she opens them invitingly. He breathes out shakily against her shoulder and hugs her back with weak arms.

“I’m so sorry, hun.” She murmurs, guiding him inside her room and closing the door with a soft click. He sinks onto the mattress and drops his head into his hands. 

This cannot be happening. This just cannot be happening. 

Yet, it is happening and Louis can do nothing. His boyfriend is caged in a room with a monster and Louis is in a room just three doors down the corridor and still — he is powerless. 

_ What kind of partner are you?  _ A nasty voice hisses at him and he sniffs once, gritting his teeth and ignoring the voice that keeps insulting him over the violent pounding in his ribcage. The urge to storm the office sends a spark down his spine, but he stays where he is, knowing it will make it worse if he barks in there, trying to play hero. 

“Louis, dear.” The sheets rustle when Anne sits beside him, a soothing hand circling across his back. He breathes in, breathes out, then looks up and locks eyes with the mother of the love of his life. He can’t hold back any longer, his face scrunches and falls. 

Tears slip from his eyes and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the situation at whole, maybe it’s the tension that weighed down on his shoulders since the attack, maybe it’s the weird sixth-sense-feeling that something bad is going to happen. Louis oddly feels like this is all his fault. 

He shouldn’t have left the room. He should have stayed, calmed them down, and kept their voices at a low level. He should have stopped that rude nurse from entering the room. 

He should have, he could have — he didn’t.

He sucks at being a boyfriend; a partner. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, sniffing loudly and scrubbing his cheek, fingers digging in the skin. “I shouldn’t be crying, I’m being ridiculous.” 

Anne smiles sadly and pats his shoulder. “Let it all out, it’s always good to cry.” She rolls her eyes, amused. “At least that’s what they say.” 

Louis snorts wetly. “They say a lot of things when the day gets too long.” 

Anne nods and laces their fingers together. “That’s true.” She sighs sadly. “I’m angry with Harry, of course I am.” She squeezes his hand. “But that’s just because I’m worried. He’s my baby after all, no matter how old he is.” 

Louis smiles, feeling fragile, his bottom lip wobbling. “Yeah, I know. I’d be concerned if you didn’t feel that way about him.” 

“You know.” She states. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” 

Louis averts his gaze to their knot of fingers and gives a curt nod, “Yes. I…”  _ I am worse than him,  _ he wants to add,  _ I sold drugs too, I was an addict, Anne, you shouldn't hold my hand _ . He doesn’t say it out loud, but something in his eyes gives him away and Anne’s expression turns shattered once more. 

She detaches herself from him and stands up, facing the window, her backbone stiff. 

Louis also isn’t allowed to be hurt by that, yet he is, and his body burns with boiling shame. 

“My son sells drugs.” She whispers to herself. “Because of me, because I am in here.” 

And — oh shit, Louis hadn’t seen that one coming. He never considered Harry would actually tell her the truth. His heart clenches for this lovely, lovely family. 

“Anne…” Louis starts, standing up slowly. 

“I am a terrible mother. I failed.” She continues, wrapping her arms around her middle and rocking back and forth on her heels. “This is  _ my _ fault. I ruined his life.”  

“Harry wouldn’t want you to think like that.” He says carefully but firmly, because he knows it’s true. “He made the choice himself.” 

“He was only  _ eighteen _ . He was just a  _ baby _ .” 

Louis swallows, can’t deny the feelings that explode in his chest, because that is true, too. He shouldn’t have had to do something like that at the age of eighteen. Louis thinks back to London, thinks about all the young teens that were already in the claws of gangs with no exit. Louis thinks of Zayn, who joined at the age of fourteen just so he could survive. 

All of them kids, Harry, Zayn — hell, even  _ Hawk _ — they deserve better. They were born into this world for something greater than selling shit to get by or help their families. Like Harry said, no one wakes up one morning and decides to be a dealer, to throw all their plans and dreams overboard for a bit of street fame and dirty money. They probably had no choice nor clue what they got themselves into until it was too late and their were tangled in the web of illegal crimes. No way out. 

It’s hard to stomach, hard to witness what it can cause. The evidence is right in front of his very eyes, a mother blaming herself, her son just a few rooms over, having a chat with his boss. That is the thing though: No matter how hard you close your eyes to deny the truth, the pain of everything will always catch up with you. 

Louis thinks he has to throw up all of the sadness, the disgust, the fear, the anger. The withdrawal still aches in his body and makes him sensitive to stressful situations. His bones buzz and his mind starts to spin matching to the twisting and turning of his belly. He only has a second to force his legs to work over to the bin before he empties his gut. There is much that comes out besides bile and the brown liquor of his morning tea. He has to gag a couple of times afterwards. Chest heaving, sour bile rising once more, he spits it out, wiping the sweat off his forehead and the spit off his lips. He wrinkles his nose at the stickiness of his shaking fingers. He suppresses a burp at the heartburn and clenches his eyes shut, willing his mind to stay focused on breathing in and out evenly. 

“Oh, Louis…” Anne gasps, getting a towel out her drawer and petting his forehead and cleaning his mouth, “dear.” She sighs. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, embarrassed and avoids looking into the face that’s all too familiar. “I have no right to feel like this.” 

“You have every right to feel like shit.” Anne states, and Louis won’t ever get used to her bluntness. “I reckon the situation involves you as much as Harry.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, Anne’s hand still raised to pet Louis' damp hair. Then they both break, giggling without humour at the too serious, messed up situation. 

“Fucking hell,” He curses into his fit of dry giggles. “What a  _ bloody _ day.” 

Anne rolls her eyes and swats the towel at him, “What a  _ bloody _ day.” She agrees, chuckling flatly. “Fuck, indeed.” 

They laugh for another minute just a tad hysterical, just a tad out of their minds, then like someone opened the tap, tears well up and drip down their lashes. Yeah, it’s safe to say, they both aren’t good with stressful situations. 

“What is going on?” 

Louis darts his gaze to the door, wiping at the corner of his eyes to get a clearer vision, although he already knows it only can be one person. 

Harry’s face is a mask of pure aghast-shock, eyes wide, cutting from Louis to his mum to Louis. “Are you guys all right? What is going on?” 

“Grand,” Louis chuckles wetly, giving an ill-humoured thumbs up. “We’re just having a laugh, y’know, how great everything is.” 

Anne laughs at that and they grin at each other manically. His cheeks hurt. The room smells like vomit. 

Harry shakes his head, frowning. “Okay…” 

Louis inhales, calming his nerves down. Now that his hysteria died, he can concentrate on Harry fully. Before he can voice his concern about the situation at hand, Harry opens his frowning mouth again,  “We gotta go.” He states, swallowing, “I’ll...I’ll see you, mum.” 

“What?” Anne asks, “We…” The words never leave her mouth when she looks in Harry’s face and notices his cool features. “Alright, okay.” She rambles, running an airy hand through her hair and wipes her face with her thumbs. 

Harry, still cold but not too indifferent to hug his mum goodbye, squeezes her sides for a long beat. When they part, he rubs below his nose, coughing awkwardly in his fist before backtracking towards the door. “I’ll see you.” He says again with a lower, more meaningful voice. 

Anne has a frown on her face that matches Louis’. 

“C’mon, Louis.” Harry rushes, not giving him any more time to embrace Anne before lacing their fingers together and tugging until Louis stumbles after him. 

“Bye Anne!” He calls over his shoulder just a second before Harry shuts the door, hearing Anne’s voice traveling through the wood.

Harry urges them on, his hand clammy with hot sweat in Louis’ as he rushes them through the living room-ish room. Louis doesn’t say anything, it’s already enough of a task to keep up with Harry’s long legs. 

“Harry!” A voice stops them.

Harry stiffens and his hand has a death grip on Louis’. They turn, just to see Simon nodding significantly Harry’s way. Louis frowns but he has no time to figure out what that was about, because not a second later they pace past Perrie and another moment passes and they breathe in the late summer air.

The door swings closed behind them and before Louis can overthink Harry’s cold attitude and figure out if it’s already a good time to start asking questions, Harry draws Louis in a bone crushing hug, hooking his chin over Louis' shoulder. Louis hugs Harry back just as fiercely, inhaling the familiar yet faded cologne and memorising his body heat. He kisses the crook of Harry’s sweaty neck and just holds his boy until the tension leaves both of their bodies slightly. Harry draws back with a sheepish expression, pressing his knuckle in the inner corner of one eye, while the other blinks at Louis with heavy lids. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, hoarsely. 

Louis can’t stand that ‘ _ sorry _ ’ is the word of the day. So instead of saying it’s okay, he stands on his tiptoes and kisses the sad line right off Harry’s lips. He places a chaste peck to Harry’s jawline and rasps, “I love you.” 

Harry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I love you, too.” He mumbles equally quiet and plants a kiss on Louis' forehead. 

With a scan over Harry’s features, noting the exhausted hunch of his broad shoulders, Louis annonces: “I’ll drive,” fishing the keys out of Harry’s back pocket and patting Harry’s waist in a gentle manner. His hand lingers for a second before he unlocks the car and they hop in. 

Turning on the radio was a mistake; when the first chords of  _ Mr. Brightside  _ come on, Harry tenses in the passenger seat. Louis' fingers grip the wheel so tight, his knuckles turn white and his breath hitches in his throat. Swallowing down nothing but emptiness, he turns the radio off. Harry folds in on himself, making his long limbs appear small with the way he’s sitting. 

“I love you, Louis.” He says out of nowhere, and when Louis gives him a quick sideway-look, he smiles sadly and — it all sits wrong with Louis. 

He frowns, reaching over the console to take Harry’s hand in his. He brings it to his mouth and kisses each knuckle before letting their hands rest on the armrest. 

“I love you.” He murmurs before concentrating on the road, “A lot, actually.” He adds to lift the troubled mood. 

Harry doesn’t crack a smile like he usually does, instead his grip turns to steel on his hand. Louis doesn’t have to be a mind-reader to know something major is off, but he keeps his mouth shut and only allows himself fleeting glances at Harry throughout the ride home. 

When they enter the house, it feels aching cold. The familiar smell only does so much for their state of mind. Usually, after a visit by Anne, they are high on energy, laughing and giggling, kissing, light and so in love, but today their shoulders are sacked and their faces free of smiles. It’s not a huge surprise, seeing how this day went but it sits like a heavy stone at bottom of Louis' stomach. He toes off his shoes and places them by the door. 

Harry stands behind him and when Louis turns, there is a calculating look on his face, the skin around his eyes tight and twitchy. 

“What?” Louis asks, frowning as Harry shifts from one foot to the other. He opens his mouth and closes it again, setting his jaw and blowing hot air out of his nose. “Harry.” Louis sighs, “Please, please talk to me?” 

Again, Harry’s lips part but no sound comes out. Instead, he smacks them together and Louis slowly gets irritated by his behaviour. 

“What’s on your mind?” Louis asks, swallowing a mouthful of hair-raising assumptions. “Haz, please. What happened?”

Harry, still not able to form any sort of language, shakes his head and pecks Louis' forehead, before passing him into the living room. 

Louis stays in the hallway for another moment, gathering his thoughts and willing his heart to stop beating so fast. Everything has to be fine. Anne knows what Harry is doing, sure. Also, Harry had a chat with his boss, that is true. But nothing big changed, right? Louis blinks, frowning deeply at his naked feet, his toes curling inward against the floor. Right. He reassures himself, nothing has changed. They love each other; they are partners. Harry would tell him, yes? Because that's what they do: they trust each other enough to talk things out. Right? 

_ Right? _

“What d’you wanna eat for dinner, Lou?” Harry calls. 

He brings himself out of the endless space of questions and crawls mentally back out of the hole of confusion and calls back a random meal. To be honest, food is the last thing he wants now. It’s not even past four in the afternoon. 

“I think we should eat something fancy.” Harry says, when Louis enters the kitchen. His back is to Louis, so he can’t make out the expression but the deep voice gives him away. There is a layer of something Louis can’t read and it weighs down on his shoulders more than it should, probably. Maybe Louis' mind is in overdrive. The words ‘ _ Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong _ ’ play on loop in his head like a soundtrack to his very own horror movie. His heart drops in agreement when Harry does face him eventually. 

“Harry, what happened in Simon’s office?” Louis asks as calmly as he can, though his voice swings high at the end.

Harry flinches at the mention of Simon’s name but catches himself quickly. His face is wearing a mask, and  Louis can't see underneath. It reminds him of the time when they first met, they both were closed off and mistrusting, both branded by prejudice.

Harry shrugs his shoulders casually. “Nothing. He was just talking business, the usual,” He says, brushing Louis’ concerns off with another shrug. “Just…you know, I thought I could keep it a secret from my mum, the whole…” He swirls his index in the air and whistles with the movement. “You know?”

“I do know, yes.” Louis nods slowly. “Do you want to talk? You don't have to, of course. Just...I’m here for you. Partners, yeah?” He looks hopefully at Harry.

Harry swallows, “C’mere.” He whispers, opening his arms and Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He launches himself at Harry. They stumble backwards and Harry catches them at the counter. He chuckles into Louis' hair, holding him close and patting his bum. “Let’s just forget that this day ever happened, yeah?  _ It’s over for now _ .” He pauses, “I know...I can talk to you, but right now, I need a break. You do, too.”

Louis closes his eyes briefly and presses his nose to Harry's collarbone, “Okay.” He agrees, kissing the bare spot on Harry’s neck and sighing tiredly.

Maybe, Louis thinks, feeling a bit lighter, it is about Anne finding out he’s dealing and Simon’s presence is always something that troubles Harry. So experiencing both of the worst case scenarios in one short day is really what is causing Harry to close off a bit. It’s understandable, of course. Louis wishes Harry would just talk it out with him but he respects Harry's decision and hopes he'll share his thoughts in the morning or when the shock has fully worn off.

“Lemme woo you.” Harry says, interrupting Louis’ musings, a grin audible in his raspy voice. “I wanna wine and dine you…well, perhaps without the wine…but, I think I’ve got some candles left.”

Louis chuckles. “All right, you sap. I’m going in the shower, then.” Louis wants to take a step back, but Harry won’t let him, holds him only tighter.

“Stay, watch me cook. I love when you do that.” He murmurs, cupping Louis' nape and bringing their lips together before Louis can protest. As if he would. If Harry wants him in the kitchen, Louis will stay in the kitchen. “You cook so often lately, I might have to level up my game a bit.” Harry murmurs against his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth and squeezing a handful of Louis' bum.

Harry wasn’t lying when he said he’d cook something fancy. He went full out, making a roast with potatoes and carrots and even fresh lemonade. Louis watches on as he peels the potatoes and takes the opportunity to steal some of the carrots, chuckling when Harry swats his thigh in faux-disapproval and generally just tries his best to distract Harry whenever and however he can. Basically, they fall back into their old cooking routine, with Louis observing from his spot on the worktop and Harry doing the actual cooking this afternoon. While they wait for the roast to be ready, they dance in the free space, swaying from side to side to the low hum of the radio.  

The food is delicious, not that Louis is much surprised, since he’s had the pleasure of enjoying Harry’s cooking so many times he lost count, but it all feels a bit like a first date, for some reason. Harry is very determined to eat at the dining table, a candle between them and a million candles surrounding them. They left the lights out, enjoying their dinner in the sunset that shines through the window and the dim glowing candlelight. They play footie under the table and giggle giddily into their napkins, flirting non-stop and sipping lemonade from fancy wine glasses that were still left from Harry’s grandpa.

Louis makes Harry snort his drink out of his nose and Harry tells the worst joke he can think of as revenge, making Louis choke on the last bite of his food.

See, very first-date-like.

They’ve done the dishes, splattering each other with soapy water that erupts into a full-blown soap fight real quick, with both of them wet to their underwear and their hair damp and hanging in both of their eyes. They are a moist giggling mess, stumbling up the stairs and slipping on the steps. Louis almost makes them fall down, when he loses hold and uses Harry’s tee to balance himself.

What is not first date-y is that they shower together, taking turns in massaging shampoo in the other one’s hair and rinsing it out, slowly, carefully.

When they are fresh smelling and dry, they fall onto the mattress, their cheeks heated up in a rosy colour from their shower, and easy smiles shimmering on their faces.

“You know…” Harry starts, licking his plump lips, eyes dancing at Louis humorously. “Lions mate about fifty times a day.” He giggles, boyish, cheek dimpling. “They really are going at it huh?”

“If you wanna make a bet out of it, I don’t think we’ve got a chance against lions, babe.” Louis grins, patting Harry’s stomach, feeling it sink inward at his touch. Harry releases an airy huff, like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or hold the sound in his lungs. Louis drops a kiss to Harry’s bare shoulder, resting the sharp point of his chin on Harry’s arm.

Harry tilts his head down, eyes flickering between Louis’ eyes and his lips.

Slowly, the amusement leaves both of them. Harry cups the nape of Louis’ neck, at the same time he surges forward, sucking on Louis’ top lips with a wet sound. Louis’ finger twitches on Harry’s stomach, and his cock perks in interest, filling up where it’s resting against Harry’s hip.

Harry rolls them over without breaking the melted kiss, hovering over Louis’, underarms sinking into the pillow to the  left and right of Louis’ head.

Louis' thighs hug Harry’s waist, pulling him completely on top of him, enjoying the feeling of Harry’s weight pressing him into the mattress. He moans when Harry nibbles on his bottom lip and parts his mouth, tongue darting out and nudging Harry’s in little, quick kitten licks. He feels Harry’s eyelashes flutter on his cheek.

His fingers travel up and down Harry’s sides until they slide on his back, feeling how each inhale and exhale stretches Harry’s ribs.

They snog lazily until Harry’s already naturally plush lips are swollen from Louis’ delicate bites and thorough nibbling, with one last swap over Harry’s tongue, they part, noses bumping as they pant in each other’s mouths, both trying to suck down as much air as possible.

Harry cups his cheek, kisses his nose and chin, and sucks a wet kiss to Louis’ neck. Then they lock hooded eyes and Louis mouth runs dry as he looks into the never-ending incredible evergreen that behold so much lust that he thinks, he actually can see a spark of fire flicker in them.

“I want you.”

“You already have me, H.” Louis breathes, gasping for air, as Harry rolls his hips against his in a teasing way.

“Hmm…” Harry hums, planting three kisses down from Louis’ chin to his collarbone. He sucks on the skin above his right nipple and Louis lets out a whimper as ardent heat sparks in his lower belly. A chill runs down his spine as Harry twists his left nipple.  “Want you inside me.” Harry murmurs against his skin.

Louis swallows, fingers finding their own way in Harry’s hair, “Y-yeah?” He gulps, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, lemme—” Louis swallows, tugging softly on Harry’s curls. They roll over, Louis straddling Harry’s lap. He wastes no time to bury his nose in Harry’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent as he rolls his hips down. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Harry shakes his head, “I want you to make love to me.” 

Louis lashes flutter and he hides his smile in Harry’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll make love to you, all night long, then.” He says. “Not quite like lions-” they both laugh breathlessly at that, Louis' smile stretches to a grin, “But we can break our own record.”

Slowly but surely, he goes down on Harry, leaving a trail of kisses from Harry’s sternum to his belly button. He takes his time to lick his V-line before kissing Harry’s hip, thumbs digging into Harry’s waist as his boy beneath him starts to squirm, huffing impatiently. 

“Lou,” Harry moans, “please, c’mon.” 

Louis hums in reply, fingers curling loosely around Harry, “What do you want, baby?” He asks, mouth watering as Harry’s angry red cock leaks more precome. 

“You. I want your mouth, I want your fingers. I want  _ you _ , Louis.” Harry rambles breathily. When Louis darts his gaze away from the pretty cock and locks eyes with Harry, something tightens in his stomach at how earnest Harry looks. It’s the same feeling he had when they came home today. But then Harry rolls his hips up, and Louis shakes himself out of the weird train of thought. “C’mon.” Harry urges, searching for friction. 

Louis swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and scoots up, kissing Harry’s lips and taking his shaft more firmly in his hand. He tugs once, twice, while his tongue rolls over Harry’s, then he makes his way down again, taking Harry in and breathing through his nose steadily. 

The weight of Harry’s cock on his tongue makes him moan around it. He’s always loved the thickness of it, loved it when Harry gagged him and made him tear up. 

Tonight is no different he takes him in deeper. Harry pants and thrusts forward, cock hitting the back of Louis' throat and sure enough, tears spring into his eyes and he suppresses a cough. He relaxes his jaw more and pumps the rest of Harry that he can’t quite take in. 

Harry’s fingers find his hair and he tugs desperately on the tips. Louis looks up and when they make eye contact, the weird feeling returns in his guts. 

He hums around Harry’s cock before pulling away, breathing in shakily and distracting himself from the whirl in his stomach. He pecks Harry’s ribs as he reaches over to the bedside table, getting the lube and a condom out. 

“Hm, it's flavoured.” He notices. “Strawberry.” 

“Felt like it.” Harry replies, widening his legs invitingly. “Also, it was on sale.” He shrugs, the sheets rustling under his arms. 

Louis chuckles, unsettling thoughts forgotten. Placing the rubber and the strawberry lube next to their bodies. He replies, “Good thinking. I like it.” In a breath, before he sits on his calves, thighs stinging the way they're stretched. 

Louis lubes two fingers and teases Harry’s rim with the tip of his index, watching Harry shut his lids and throw his head back as he enters the warm, clenching and unclenching hole. It takes a couple of breaths for Harry to relax and Louis kisses the inside of his milky thighs. 

“I want you so bad.” Harry moans as Louis starts to pump his finger in and out, torturously slow. “I wanna—” He cuts himself off, moaning throatily with a slack jaw as Louis scratches at the little lump inside him. 

“What d’you want?” Louis asks, enjoying the feeling of the ring of muscles around his finger. He has an odd fascination with it. To be honest, he could finger Harry all night. He never gets tired of observing how responsive Harry is. 

“I want you, now. I want you inside. Now.” Harry pants, chest rising and falling. His fingers clench the sheets and a layer of sweat glistens on his chest.

Louis chuckles breathlessly, working his finger faster and then lining up another one, taking his time to open Harry up until Harry cries out that he’ll come any second now.

When he has three fingers inside and has turned Harry in a teary-eyed pleased mess, Louis thinks Harry is ready (also, the chants of ‘ _ Louis, please, Lou, c’mon’,  _ clued him in, but anyway). 

Louis slowly draws his fingers out, teasing Harry's rim, earning a choked moan as reward and rolls the rubber onto his throbbing dick, lining it up. He hovers over Harry, kissing the raw bitten lips and catching a drop of a lone tear that glitters on Harry's top lip, whilst entering his warmth with a long-lasting groan of his own. 

“I love you.” Louis exhales, as he’s ball deep inside, unmoving, trying to steady himself. “I love you the most.”

Harry wraps his arms around Louis, clinging to him, as Louis pulls back just an inch and thrusts his hips forward. He repeats the movement, almost drawing out completely and snapping his hips quickly. 

Harry cries out into his neck, lips parted and sweat dampening his fringe. He whimpers, shifts his head and lets another sob leave his mouth,  muffled by Louis' shoulder. “I love you. I love you.” Harry moans, biting Louis' collarbone and causing Louis to have to hold back his load, arse tensing as Harry’s fingers grab his meat. 

Swallowing, he lifts Harry’s chin, bringing their lips together in an open-mouthed hot, sloppy kiss, the rhythm of his hips faltering as Harry bites the flesh of his bottom lip. Harry rolls his own hips up, meeting Louis' thrusts in a mastered art. 

Harry’s nails scratch across Louis' ribs, digging into the flesh of Louis’ smaller back, and Louis groans deeply into Harry’s neck, resting his forehead there for a moment to collect himself. He can already feel his orgasm building and he presses his lids shut. 

“If you keep—” He pants a bit helplessly, swallowing, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.” He whimpers, adjusting his pelvis.

“M’close, too.” Harry mumbles into his skin, holding Louis even tighter, his thighs wrapping around Louis' waist as he angles his hips up a bit more. 

Two more thrusts of Louis’ hips hitting Harry’s spot right on and Harry is coming with a whiny cry all over his own stomach and Louis’ sweaty chest. His ring clenches around Louis and he doesn’t stand a chance, with one last snap forward, his arms give out under the force of his own orgasm. He sobs into Harry’s neck as his mind turns white and star-like, fervent euphoria washing down his spine in waves that seem to last forever. 

They stay flushed chest to chest like that for a long moment, both catching their breath. Harry kisses a drop of sweat off of Louis' top lip and nuzzles the spot between his shoulder and neck, holding him in place, not giving in when Louis chuckles softly into Harry's hair, telling him he wants to get something to clean them up. 

Harry is clinging to him like a koala bear, arms wrapped around Louis' shoulders and thighs around Louis’ waist. 

“Don’t go.” He whispers with a raw voice. “Don’t wanna let you go.” 

Louis hums, heart filling with so much warmth and love he beholds only for Harry. “I will be right back, darling. Just getting a washcloth, yeah?” 

Harry shakes his head stubbornly.

Alright, then. 

Louis stops struggling, going limp in Harry's bone-crushing hug and breathing in the smell of vanilla shampoo and musky sweat. He kisses behind Harry’s ear before tucking loose curls off his forehead. “Lemme get the cloth.” He murmurs after a moment, because he can feel the cum drying between their stomachs, the stickiness itching on both of their skin.

Harry gives in with a quiet sigh, arms and legs falling like a star to the sides. Louis draws his softened cock out of Harry, rolling the condom off his dick. 

He can feel Harry’s eyes burning on the back of his hair as he pads into the bathroom, soaking a cloth with lukewarm water and joining Harry on the mattress with a quick peck to Harry's lips. 

“What?” He asks, smiling, as Harry still is staring at him with an unreadable expression. Louis rubs the cloth gently over the heated skin on Harry’s stomach and bum. 

“Nothing,” Harry mumbles, fingers carding through Louis' hair. When Louis looks up, Harry just looks at him through his lashes, like he wants to memorise him. Louis frowns, but doesn’t ask, since it could be the aftermath of Harry’s orgasm. Harry always gets a bit quieter after sex, more cuddly. So, it really shouldn’t concern Louis. 

It still does.

When Louis is under the covers, Harry immediately snuggles closer. Head resting on Louis' chest and legs slotted between Louis’, kneecap digging in Louis' inner thigh. 

Louis starts drawing mindless patterns on Harry’s skin, staring at the ceiling while the silence stretches on. He starts to think Harry fell asleep until Harry kisses his chest and hums low in his throat.

“Thank you.” He whispers. 

Louis chuckles, confused.“You don’t have to thank me.” His brows inch closer as he glances down. 

Harry looks so innocent, with rosy cheeks and bitten lips,but  there is a nervous glint in the green of his eyes that Louis can’t make out the meaning behind. As long as Harry isn’t opening up about it on his own, Louis will never find out.

He kisses Harry’s forehead. “Sleep, love, it’s been a long day.” 

Harry closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and pressing himself against Louis some more. “Yeah.” He swallows. “It’s been a long day.” 

“Good night,” Louis says, closing his eyes.

“I love you, Louis, forever. You need to know that.” 

Louis blinks his lids open, glancing at Harry with a frown. “I know that,” He affirms, mouth run dry. “I love you, too, Harry. You’re it for me. You know?”

Harry smiles, bringing their lips together for the last kiss of the night and closes his eyes.

Louis feels oddly close to tears. Maybe, he thinks, today was just an emotional rollercoaster. 

With that thought in mind, he falls asleep, wrapped around a boy he’d give his life for.

  
  


***    *    ***

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *remember, if you liked this chapter please be so kind and leave a comment and/or kudos, thank you!*
> 
> thanks for reading everyone! xxx


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY MONDAY! <3 
> 
> lets jump right into this mess, enjoy! x

 

***    *    ***

 

The sheets cling to his legs and his chest is clammy with sweat from the previous night. Nightmares that had him rolling from side to side are still vivid behind his closed eyes. He huffs through his nose and yawns, rubbing hair from his damp forehead.

“Hmpf…” He moans, “‘Arry, wha’time’s it?”

Sleepily, he reaches out, seeking Harry’s skin and the comfort that comes with it. When his fingers only curl around cold sheets instead of a warm promising body, he frowns, slapping the mattress.

Hmm…

Clearly it isn’t the first time Louis has woken up with no mop of curly hair covering the pillow beside him. It shouldn’t be much of a concern, but with the events from yesterday which left a sour taste in his mouth –– Anne finding out that Harry deals, Simon chiming in with all his big bad boss attitude, calling Harry in his office to talk about  _ whatever _ –– it makes everything seem a bit ominous. A red flashing light goes off in his mind, setting his body in panic mode instantly.

Opening his eyes slowly, as if to give Harry time to appear from thin air, his heart starts to pound like thunder when he notices that the covers are made on the right side of the bed and even Harry’s pillow is shaken out and fluffy. It is nothing new, though; Harry likes to keep his bed tidy. He always says it motivates him to start the day productively. Louis always replies it’s bullshit, the most productive thing one can do is slap the snooze-button.

His stomach turns.

It all sits wrong with Louis.

Holding his breath, he strains to hear any kind of  noise coming from downstairs, pans clattering or music playing, but there are none - which isn’t rare, either. Sometimes, Harry walks Travis at random hours in the morning or he jogs to the bakery, saying it’s a double win: he gets them a nice breakfast and his morning jog in one go. Also, it’s not unusual these days that Louis finds Harry outside on the terrace with paint smeared on his face and a new masterpiece coming to life.

Well, while everything stated is true and Louis should probably laugh at his paranoid thoughts - like Harry being kidnapped or leaving the country to join an underground mafia - his eyes sting and not from the blinding rays of sunshine.

“Shut up.” Louis mutters to himself, trying to silence his mind. It works for about three seconds, then his eyes catch a yellow post-it on the bedside table and Louis shoots upright, duvet pooling around his hips as he stretches to catch the note with his shaky fingers.

The words cause tears to spring into his eyes and his vision goes blurry. His heart clenches as a broken sob leaves his parted lips.

“No, no, no.” He chants, throwing the note from him and drawing his knees to his chest. He presses his face to his thighs and bites the inside of his cheek, desperate for a distraction from the pain and panic that explode in his chest. “No, no, no, no.” He rambles, choked up.

Louis gives himself another second to calm down before he reaches for the note again, reading the words over and over and over.

 

_ Don’t look for me. I love you. Always and Forever - H _

 

He weeps, rocking forth and back where he’s sitting. Louis crumples the note in his fist before straightening it out again and reading it over.

With a great shaky inhale that somehow still leaves his lungs empty, he blinks the tears out of his eyes. “This is his handwriting.” Louis mumbles aloud, trying to make sense of it. “This is  _ his _ handwriting.”

He looks up, staring at the painting of himself for a blank second, taking in the colours that glow in the glittering light.

Then, a jolt of lightning zips through the whole of his body frame and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Louis hastily pulls on some random boxers that he finds on the floor and jogs barefoot down the stairs, the pounding of his heart the only noise in the house.

“Harry!” He calls, reaching the living room. “Harry?” — Nothing.  

He pokes his head into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Looking out of the window, he sees no bread van parked in the driveway and his heart drops to his feet.

“ _ No _ ,” He whimpers, bottom lip wobbling and knees shaking, “He…wouldn’t. He  _ wouldn’t _ .” Glancing around, the evidence is there, yes Harry would. He already did, actually.

Louis sinks to the floor, right at the spot where they danced just yesterday and puts his head in his hands. He lets the sobs out, since he’s the only one in this bloody house, and he doesn’t try to be quiet as whimpers escape his lips.

“ _ Harry _ !” He calls out, desperately and wetly. He clenches a hand at his heart, feeling it shatter and break and throb over and over again. This cannot be happening, not to them - they are partners. This cannot be happening.

Louis stays on the kitchen floor until he's empty of all tears and his weeping sobs ebb out into little puffs of air. He feels oddly numb now.

He should have listened to his gut feeling. He knew something was off and he fucking ignored it. If they would have talked about it, this wouldn’t have happened. Louis could have talked Harry out of leaving. He could have, he should have, he…didn’t because Louis is the biggest naive fool on this planet.

Hung up on that thought, he climbs to his feet, dragging himself up the stairs, which is quite the task and Louis has to stop several times to take deep breaths. When he’s made it into the bedroom, he crumbles again, seeing the note is still on the bed, but the absence of Harry’s leather jacket and trousers stick out to Louis so much more.

Louis closes his eyes and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

He does the first logical thing he can think of: calling Harry.

Harry doesn’t pick up.

When he tries again, the phone is turned off and it goes straight to voicemail.

Louis stares at his phone for about three seconds, then he throws it against the wall and buries himself under the covers. He lets out an angry scream. It doesn’t feel as good as they say it does and he huffs in frustration.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he hides in the bed that he and Harry shared for so many weeks, but eventually he gets restless.

Swallowing, he picks up his phone. The screen is now cracked but it still works, so it’s whatever. Louis tries calling Zayn, which leads to nothing more but a busy signal and then he’s cut off.

“Alright, alright.” He mutters to himself, scratching his neck. What now? What does one do when his boyfriend disappears to nowhere?  

You have a mental breakdown, that's what.

The thing is, Louis can’t allow himself to break down (again) and waste even  _ more _ time.

A new gathered energy buzzes in his bones and he jumps out of bed a second time, snatching his jeans and hopping on one leg as he pulls them on. He puts on a black tee and pockets the note and his useless phone. With a last glance around the bedroom, he nods to himself, determined to find his idiot of a boyfriend.

Seriously, does Harry think a simple note stating not to look for him will keep Louis away from finding him? Apparently that’s what he thought, since he left the post-it in the first place, but whatever. Louis is calm as the ocean on a sunny day. He is not freaking out. He is not.

He dashes down the stairs, slips twice and almost loses complete hold in his haste to get out of the house. The moment the door has fallen shut behind him, he notices darkly that he forgot to put on shoes, also, the set of keys are not in his pockets but in the bowl placed in the hallway.

Great.

_ Who needs shoes anyway? _ He thinks, starting to jog along the pavement. Every human being, but not him, nope — not today, at least. Shoes are overrated, watch it become the new fashion trend next year, Louis is just ahead of everyone else.

Anyway, as entertaining and distracting the thought is, his mind clears out when he passes the still closed Diner and nearly gets hit by a car when he crosses the street.

Once he’s safely back on the pavement, he has an idea of where his legs are carrying him and his mind only catches up with it when he’s standing in front of his sister’s house. Thankfully, her car is parked in the driveway and he just wastes a second to frown at the black slick car parked behind it. Maybe she has a visitor. Well that’s just too bad, because Louis is gonna crash that little tea party.

He rings the bell in a storm, finger pressing down on the button more desperately the longer it takes for his sister to open the fucking door. When she does, Louis wishes she hadn’t. She’s not the only one in the tiny hallway.

“Mum,” He states blankly, swallowing and forgetting for a second why he’s here. “What are you…” He trails off, eyes catching Lottie’s as the corner of her mouth turns down and she gives a small apologetic shrug.

“Well, we were just talking about you.” Jay says, a pleasant smile on her red lips. “Come in, Louis.”

“I actually need to—”

“Come on.” Jay cuts him off, coaxing him in with her index.

Louis' shoulders hunch, “Mum, not now.” He says, fixing his gaze on Lottie. “I need your help, Lottie.” He says, and Lottie frowns. “I don’t have time for some family get-together, not right now.”

“What happened?” Lottie asks, pulling him in anyway and closing the door behind them.

They make their way to the living room and Jay sits down on the never used dining table, crossing her legs and blinking curiously at Louis.

He turns his back to his mother, “I need your car.” He whispers.

“Why? What happened?”

“Harry is missing.” He confesses with a thick voice. Fresh tears sting in his eyes and before they can blur his vision, he blinks them away, refocusing on Lottie’s concerned face.

“What do you mean?” She asks, frowning deeply.

“Who is Harry?” Jay chimes in. No one gives her attention. Jay huffs.

“He left…” Louis pulls out the note, “this.”

Lottie takes the note in her hands, eyes flickering over the handwriting. “Shit.” She mutters, “And you think—”

“We had quite the day, yesterday.” It’s the understatement of the year. Whatever happened in that fucking office set this off. Louis knows. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them Lottie is staring at him aghast. “I…Lottie, I dunno what to do.” His voice breaks. His heart starts to beat faster as the heaviness of the situation comes crashing on his shoulders. His throat closes in and he coughs, stepping back and ruffling his hair. He glances at his mum, but then again, this is much more important. He lets out a big breath.

“Lottie, Harry is gone and I don’t know where the fuck he is. Zayn isn’t answering, Harry turned his bloody phone off, and I—” His voice raises with each word, and he looks at his sister desperately, “What do I do, Lottie? What do I do now?” He chokes out. “I don’t know what to do.” He cries.

“Okay, let’s…let’s not freak out, Louis.” Lottie says with a shaky voice.

Louis laughs, high-pitched. “I’m not freaking out, I am calm as a fucking  _ monk _ , Lottie. I’m not…” He laughs, pulling on his hair then his neckline, pacing in circles. “I’m…help me, Lottie,  _ help me _ .  _ Please _ .”

“Louis,  _ Louis _ …”

He can’t hear her over the rushing in his ears. It feels like he’s underwater, his vision becomes fuzzy with little white dots. Everything feels too hot, too tight; his skin is like a cage and the walls are closing in on him. He has to find Harry and this isn’t helping. He must get to Harry.  _ Now _ . His chest tightens along with a panicked aftertaste of his thought. It tastes bitter and his heart starts to race at an unstoppable pace, as his fingers and toes tingle with numbness.

He's going to pass out. He's utterly useless. Stupid.  _ So bloody stupid _ . He should have acted on his instincts that were nagging him about something being off. Harry could be with him, safe and sound, if he had just listened to his gut. Why didn't he? Why, why,  _ why? _

Sweat breaks out of his pores.

“Louis, I need you to calm down.” Lottie says, her voice far away. Something claws at his frail shoulders.

There is a long moment where he can't make out any noise, only his pulse and his uncontrolled breathing. Tears brim in his eyes but he shuts them before the salty drops can escape. Tears won't help, tears will make it all much worse. Fuck.

Louis cannot cry. He won't cry. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . He  _ won't _ —

Then, out of the blue there is a slash of freezing water. It hits him straight in the face and he splutters, shocked and blinks slowly back into the present. The room zooms in, the ticking of the clock is there again, and now he can make out the concerned faces of his family members.

Louis swallows thickly, his tongue feeling swollen. “Holy shit.” He coughs, blinking away the water that is caught in his eyelashes. “Holy shit.” He repeats, hoarsely.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me now?” Lottie asks, lowering the hand holding the empty glass. “Maybe you should lay down for a minute.”

Louis blinks dumbfoundedly, wiping the water off of his face. Someone hands him a towel and he dries himself, hands still trembling. “Thanks, I’m...fine, I guess.” He mutters absently, embarrassment heating his cheeks.

Relief washes over Lottie’s face and her lips that were turned south just seconds before, twitch in slight amusement. “This would be funny in any other situation.” She says, holding her breath, then releasing it in one go. “Cold water always does the trick.”

Louis shakes out his wet hair. “What was that?” Louis frowns, “What just happened?” 

“You panicked, dear.” Jay says, taking back the towel and eyeing Louis with something close to concern in her brown eyes. “Who is Harry?” She asks, “Your boyfriend?” 

Louis and Lottie share a look, then Louis brings his attention to his mother, and nods once. Jay licks her red bottom lip, inhaling, exhaling slowly. That’s it, not only is Harry missing and the dragon of a mother is standing in Lottie’s living room ready to call the priest or whatever, but more importantly right now they don’t have time for this. To stand and chat and talk about rights and wrongs. 

“I don’t have time for this.” Louis grunts out loud as she just stares at him, and turns towards Lottie again. “Gimme your—”

“I’ll drive you.” Jay cuts him off, fingers wrapping in a steel grip around Louis’ underarm. “I can help, come on.”

There is another shocked moment. Everyone is so silent, Louis can only hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. The siblings look at each other, both sharing the same puzzled expression. Lottie gives a tiny shrug, and Louis narrows his eyes at her. She widens her blue ones and yep, that is it.

Louis turns once more to his mother, who is watching them with sharp eyes. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Well, I won’t let Lottie go with you. She’s pregnant.” Jay states. “And I won’t let you go alone, so we can either talk about this a bit longer and discuss it over again, or we can be on our way to…whatever is going on.” She waves a hand in the air. “Your choice.” She adds as he just stares at her, perplexed.

Louis shakes himself out of his what-the-fuck-is-happening-state and sighs to himself. “Whatever, okay.” He blinks rapidly. “Let’s go then.” He urges.

“Where are we going?” Jay asks, getting her purse from where it’s dangling from the chair’s rest.

Louis stops on his way to the hallway, shoulders stiffening. “I have no idea.” He confesses.

“Well,” Lottie chimes in, “before you go anywhere, let’s discuss the plan. You can’t just run off without some sort of idea where to start, now can you?”

“Lottie—” Louis protests, but he’s cut off by his mother.

“No, Louis, listen to your sister, she’s right.”

Louis puffs out his cheeks in frustration. “He’s in Manchester.” He says, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, rubbing his thighs nervously. His mum sits down next to him and Lottie breezes into the kitchen, for what it sounds like, making tea. Now that he’s alone with his mother, awkwardness takes over and he averts his eyes to his lap, squirming in his seat.

“Manchester?” His mother asks, “Well, that’s a start. Does he work there?”

“Something like that.” Louis nods, scrunching his face. He can’t tell her, can he? When he looks up, she purses her lips before reaching out and placing her small delicate hand over his. He almost flinches away from the soft touch.

She smiles, tight-lipped. “I am sorry, hun.” She says, “Whatever happened to your…fr— boyfriend…”

“Nothing happened.” He snarls right back, drawing his shoulders up to his ears defensively. She blinks calmly at him, and he sighs. “I don’t know what happened, I hope nothing happened. I’m—” His breath comes out shakily and his mother starts rubbing his back. What? He blinks at her, can’t cover up his surprised expression quick enough and her smile disappears as her hands fall from him.

“Let’s not get worked up again.” Jay says after a moment where they just stare at each other.

Lottie saves Louis a moment later, coming back with a tray of steaming tea and some biscuits. “Alright, let’s do this.” She says, sitting on the other side of Louis. “Manchester?” Lottie prompts with raised eyebrows.

“Has he got family in Manchester?” Jay asks, taking a sip from her tea.

Louis blinks.

“Louis…” Lottie says carefully, touching his shoulder. “Anne is in—”

Jumping to his feet, he rushes out of the room into the hallway. When no one follows him, he pokes his head through the doorway, “Mum, you coming?” His heart beats faster when his mum finally gets to her feet as well, kitten heels clicking over the floor as she adjusts her hair and shoulders her purse. 

“Much luck, Louis!” Lottie calls just before the door falls shut. 

“Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” Jay asks on the way to the car. 

Oh. Right. 

“Shoes are overrated.” Louis murmurs absently, rounding the car and outstretching his hand for the keys. “I’m driving.” 

“What are you now? Some sort of hippie?” Jay asks, frowning. “You’ll get sick, dear.” 

“I’m driving and I won’t get sick.” Louis says, irritated.

“This is my baby.” Jay says, “I’m driving, of course.” 

They stare at each other, and well. The stern look his mother gives him tells him that they will be standing in the driveway for the rest of the day, since they are both equally stubborn. He huffs, giving up quicker than usual. “Okay, you drive. Let’s go.” He says, getting to the passenger side but not before he sees the little triumphant smile Jay has on her lips. She always turns everything into a competition, only so she can win. Louis tries very hard not to get annoyed. 

Louis had almost forgotten how fancy Jay’s car is - how slick the leather seats are and how it glides over the street more than it drives on wheels. It’s a nice ride, strong but still silencing the noises of the outside world and the motor. The navigation system tells them when to turn and stuff, but Louis knows the road by heart now. Anyway, he’s glad for the robotic voice to break the silence that fogs up between them. He wishes Jay liked music, at least, so then they could listen to the radio. They don’t, so Louis has no choice but listen to his thoughts instead. 

He tries to call Harry again, not surprised when it goes to the voicemail on both numbers. Zayn isn’t better and Louis wonders why the hell Zayn isn’t picking up. 

Louis’ leg starts to jiggle when they get on the motorway. He pinches his bottom lip worriedly and glances out the window, watching Jay pass cars on the other line. They are fast, but not fast enough.

“So.” Jay chimes into the tension, and Louis startles in his seat, blinking owlishly at her. “Your friend—”

“ _ Boyfriend _ ,” Louis corrects automatically. 

“Boyfriend…” Jay repeats, her gaze not wavering from the road ahead, “His mother is in the hospital?”

Oh bloody hell.

Louis inhales. “She’s in therapy, yes.” Louis states with painfully neutral voice. It’s just… the longer he’s in the car with his mother, the more he can see the difference between Anne and Jay and it makes his heart clench, because Anne’s lovely son is missing and that brings him back to thinking about Harry, the last night they spent together and with that comes the heartbreak and the thoughts about death and forever and loss and…

Louis presses the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He breathes in through his nose and exhales out of his mouth. “Please, I don’t wanna talk.” He whimpers, fumbling with his hands. “Just get me to the Institution and I’ll take it from there.”

Jay clicks her tongue. “Louis, dear, look at me.”

He tilts his head up, staring at the roof of the car.

“Louis, don’t be difficult I’m trying to—”

“I’m not being difficult.” Louis interrupts and shoots her a piercing glare. “Maybe if you had one decent bone in your body, you could…you know - feel. Since you can’t, don’t say I’m being fucking difficult when my boyfriend is missing and something bad could’ve happened to him.”

“Louis—”

“Don’t  _ Louis _ me.” He snaps, kicking out his leg. He hits his knee on the dashboard and hisses in pain. “Fucking hell, harrrmpf!”

His mother huffs, annoyed, and it’s the first time he’s gotten her riled up today. He counts that as success in a sick way and thinks, whatever, there are more important things going on than fighting with his mother.

“Louis, please. Will you please explain the situation to me?” His mother asks in an unusually gentle voice. “I’m sure we can find a solution together, if you let me help you.”

“Since when do you care?” Louis mutters, side-eyeing her.

“I know I haven’t been the perfect mother—” He raises his eyebrows at the understatement, but she ignores him and carries on. “I can see that. I know I work alot and…after your dad died, it all was very hard on me, alright?” She sends him a quick glance before looking out on the street again. She passes another car, speeding up before switching back into the other lane. “You look so much like him, Louis.” She sighs.

Louis knows. He’s seen pictures of his actual dad in suits more expensive than the exclusive sofa sitting proudly in Lottie’s living room.

“I never wanted to be a mother in the first place, you know? I always wanted the company, that was the purpose of my life.”

“I dunno if you trying to insult me and make me jump out of the car, or…” He trails off, frowning at his mother in confusion. “Because this doesn’t sound good, like…at all.”

She huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry, all I’m saying is, Lottie was born and your dad was such a good dad, you know? And I thought, wow, if Lottie hadn’t happened I’d never know the pleasure of seeing him with a baby, how gentle he was with her, yeah?” She sends him a quick look, before exiting the motorway. They are almost there, thank god.

Louis nods for her to continue and wraps his arms around his middle the best he can with how he’s sitting.

“When he asked me if I wanted another child, of course I said yes. I fell in love with Lottie and I fell in love with him all over again. I got pregnant and he died and that was it. I wanted the family with him. Then he was just gone and…” She swallows. “I didn’t…” She fumbles with her hair. “I couldn’t do it without him. He was the good parent. Not me.”

Louis rolls his eyes heavenward, blinking rapidly, because today there is just an endless source of tears inside of his body that just want to spill over. He bobs his head to calm down.

“Since Mark was basically already a family member, I married him. So at least you would have a father figure in your life,” She says, “I could concentrate on the company and know that someone is taking care of my babies.”

“You married Mark because you wanted to save money for a nanny?”

Jay rolls her eyes at him, “No, Louis. I married him so we could have some sort of family.”

Louis doesn’t say what he’s thinking out loud. He doesn’t want to fight. A family isn’t a woman-man-children thing, it’s a love-thing.

“It was a mistake.” Jay confesses quietly. “Mark left, just when your…accident happened. I knew for a while that he wanted a divorce,” She sighs wetly.

Done with his life, Louis rubs tiredly across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He said that he couldn’t stand me anymore and that William would be disappointed in what kind of woman I had become.” She laughs humourlessly. “I guess he is right. William would want me to be more of a successful mother than a successful business woman.”

“Your…call…” Louis frowns.

“I let it all out on you. I was angry and I was alone and I wanted you to come home.”

“Mum—”

“I know there are a lot of things to talk about and I made a lot of mistakes in the past, but.” Her brown eyes catch his and she gives him a genuine smile. “I can change, yeah? We can work things out. I want to be better.”

Touched, Louis swallows. It’s the longest they’ve been together in any place since over a year now and it’s the most his mother has talked to him. It’s the first time she has smiled at him gently and it’s the first time she has given a sort-of apology.

He won’t tear up, he won’t tear up, he won’t —

“Alright,” He sniffs, “Alright, yeah.”  

They smile at each other for another moment, then Jay says, “We’re here.” And the moment is over and Louis' life spins some more when he looks out the window and sees the familiar building.

He draws his lips into his mouth and gets out of the car, waiting impatiently for his mother to lock it and turn around. Louis goes straight for the lift, pressing the button so many times that his mother swats at his hand.

The lift goes up and so does his pulse.

When they reach the level Anne is roomed in, Louis is sweaty and his mouth his dry. This is it. If someone knows what’s going on, it must be Anne. Harry wouldn’t leave without her knowing anything. Maybe she can give them a hint, even if she isn’t aware of the location Harry is at.

“Louis!” Perrie’s cheery smile disappears when she sees the state he is in, and well, Louis hoped he wouldn’t look as bad as he feels but then again, he is barefoot and hasn’t brushed his hair, so, “Oh darling.” She says, drawing him in a hug.

“Perrie. Hi,” He mumbles in her shoulder, arms too weak to hold her back, “we’re here to visit Anne.”

There is a frown on Perrie’s face when she pulls away. She eyes him with a tilted down mouth. “Uh, Louis…” She starts and Louis' shoulders slump before she actually says the words out loud. “Anne is released, she isn’t here anymore.” The words are far away, like he’s standing in a tunnel and he hears the echo of someone saying it from afar. “Louis I’m so sorry. You didn’t know? Aren’t you happy?”

Happy.

Louis chuckles wetly.

“Louis,” Another voice breaks through to him, Louis thinks it’s his mother.

He lets out a little whimper, then he pulls himself together. Blinking he asks, “Have you seen Haz then?”

“This morning,” Perrie nods once. “He was with Dr Cowell and a ginger?” She smiles. “Gemma came after, she took Anne with her.”

Good, that’s good, this is a start.

“A…ginger?” Louis asks.

“Redhead, ginger. A tad shorter than Harry, compact, friendly face…” She goes off in detail but Louis isn’t listening, since he’s never seen someone fitting that description with Harry. When Perrie is finished, Louis knows two things: Firstly, Anne is free and hopefully safe with Gemma and secondly, Harry is with another dealer, since there isn’t any other logical explanation for this.

This is what leads to him pressing the phone to his ear, nibbling at his lip while he waits for someone to pick up.

“I won’t be thanking you for calling, since I don’t like people.” Zayn’s drawl comes through the line. “If it’s that important, just leave a message.”  _ Beep _ . Louis breathes out, turning his back to Perrie and Jay and facing the window. He curls his toes inward.

“Mate, Zayn, c’mon what’s going on? Where the hell is Harry? Pez said he’s with some ginger? Please, if you know something, call me back, don’t think I—” And…he’s cut off. Groaning he rolls his head around his neck.

“Is Doctor Cowell in his office?” Louis asks after calming his thoughts to a level at which he can form actual words. He scrubs over his forehead, exhausted, brushing his hair off in the process. It sticks up and it’s kind of disgusting, but he doesn’t care.

“No, I’m sorry Louis.” Perrie bites her lip worriedly. “What is going on with H?”

“I don’t know, anymore.” Louis brittles. “I don’t know where to look for him, anymore.” He confesses quietly, more to himself than the two women watching him with careful eyes and sad expressions.

His phone starts ringing in his palm and Louis thinks, he’s never answered his phone this fast.

“Yes? Hello?” He looks from Perrie to his mum then directs his gaze to his naked feet. He pulls at his lip.

“Heya Lou,” Chirps a voice, too happy, too high, too female for him to feel any sort of relief.

His shoulders slump forward in disappointment, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hello Lara.” He mutters into the line, the next following question is already on the tip of his tongue but he swallows it down the moment Lara opens her mouth again.

“I was thinking, Harry and you could join me and Belle for dinner, tonight? I don’t know where to go yet, or maybe…” He stops listening, lets her carry on with her monologue and tries very hard not to sob out loud. So, Lara doesn’t know Harry is gone, which means he can scratch Niall off his mental list as well. The only other person would be Liam, since his boyfriend isn’t picking up his bloody phone, maybe Liam knows something.

Then, again, if Liam knew, he’d be calling Louis, right? Liam is a tad paranoid by nature. He wouldn’t be hiding information from Louis, when Harry is in danger or about to do something stupid and reckless. Oh, how the tables have turned, Louis muses darkly, recalling Harry pleading him not to do something stupid and reckless, not too long ago.

“Lara, love,” Louis interrupts her as she just goes on and on about double dates and roses and unicorns and visits to the cinema. He can’t fucking stand it. It fucking hurts. “Harry isn’t…home?” He blinks, wrinkling his nose. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?” He asks, a tad softer.

“Is he off to a deal? Well, I mean we can wait, late night dinner or summat should work just as good.”

“No, I mean…he left? Kind of? Have you any idea where he could be?”

“W-what do…you mean he left? Louis, what is going on?” Lara stutters.

“Harry left and said not to look for him, Anne is out of the hospital and—” Louis groans in frustration. “Where could he be, Lara?”

“This bloody idiot.” Lara exclaims. “Listen I dunno where he could be, but I’ll hear around, have you tried Niall? Liam? Gemma?”

Louis starts to shake his head only to realise, yep he is on the phone and normally people can’t see you through the line, so he clears his throat and answers quickly, “No, no, and no. I thought Anne knew something but she’s not here and yeah…” He trails off, feeling more helpless than ever.

“I’ll call around, Louis. We’ll find Harry.” Lara states confidently.

“Zayn isn’t picking up his phone.” Louis informs her. “Have you heard from him lately?” Because, now that he thinks of it, he hasn’t talked to Zayn since the attack. Liam told him Zayn sent him wishes and all that, but… Louis frowns.

Lara sighs quietly. “I haven’t heard from him, Lou. He never texts back these days.” She says, and Louis bites his lip. “I don’t think Liam knows anything, though. You know how Zayn is, always wants to keep Liam out of everything that could be dangerous.”

“I guess.” The nature of the two of them is so much different from Harry and Louis. While they are partners, Zayn kept Liam strict out of any sort of business.

Don’t mix love and business.

Liam isn’t in the business though.

_ There is this guy, Ed… _

Louis blinks, hearing Harry’s voice clear in his head, saying those words and…

“Lara…” Louis says, breathing out slowly. His hands start to shake as the idea, the possibility, forms in his mind. “Have you ever met Ed?”

There is a beat of confused silence from the other end of the line, then, “Yeah, went to his gig, remember?”

“How does he look like, Lara?” Louis asks as calmly as he can. He makes eye contact with his mother and she gives him a tiny encouraging smile.

“Uh, he kinda looks like Ron Weasley from Harry Potter?”

Louis' world stands still for three seconds, then his mind goes into burning overdrive. “So he’s a redhead?” Louis asks, just for Lara to confirm it again. His heart pumps hope through his body. His knees go a bit weak. “Have you got any ideas where he lives?” Louis asks.

“No,” Lara groans, “somewhere in Manchester, though.”

“What’s his last name?”

“Louis, if I knew, I’d tell you. Maybe…” She trails off, “Lemme check, okay? I’ll give you a call back but…” There is rustling from the other line. “I…just lemme call you back.”

“Alright, alright.” Louis nods along to his words, hope and doubt mixed as one big swirl in his belly. “Alright. Hurry, okay?”

They hang up and the silence that follows fills with new won energy. Louis tries very hard not to read too much into it all, but how are the odds? Ed apparently has red hair, is a dealer,  _ and _ he lives in Manchester. It can only be him, right? Right.

Now - how do you find someone without a phone number, last name or address?

There is a rush of confidence in his veins that’s much stronger than the doubt in his mind, and he chooses for the first time in his life to be an optimist. They will find Harry. At least now they are closer to figuring it out than before. It's good - this is brilliant. Excellent, there is no reason for the tears that sting in his eyes and there is no need to wobble to his mum and bury his face in her neck. There is no need for the little sobs to leave his lips, and still, optimism or not, this situation is tearing him apart and it fucking hurts, okay? It hurts.

They are going to find Harry, but when? What happens when they find him?  

His mother rubs his back and he thinks it’s the first time his mum has held him the way she is right now. He’d enjoy it a tad more if Harry were by his side. Because Louis loves torturing himself, he thinks about how proud Harry would be about the little progress he made with his mum.

“We’ll find your friend.” Jay says and Louis sighs. Yeah, little progress indeed. Instead of correcting her a second time, he pulls out of the hug and sniffs a final time.

“Let’s go.” He mutters, cheeks colouring in embarrassment. “Thank you Perrie.” He gives her a quick hug too and lets the words, ‘ _ Everything will be just fine, Louis. You’ll see _ ’ settle in his stomach. The thing is none of the women in front of him actually know the full truth about the situation. They might think, Harry got cold feet, they might think Harry just had some mental breakdown and left. Whatever it is that they think it is, it’s not. At least Lara and Lottie know, but Louis isn’t sure if he can open up. It’s not his secret to tell, right?

Back outside, his mother insists on buying him shoes, telling him she won’t be walking around the city with him being barefoot. So they stop at the first shoe store they spot and get Louis some black vans, though his mother preferred the Italian leather shoes, of course no surprise there. She agrees easily enough to get the vans, since Louis said he’d continue walking around with naked feet otherwise. However, his feet aren’t as cold anymore, as they stalk back to the car, so it’s a win on both ends.

“Drive another circle around this block.” Louis says later, pointing out the window and biting his bottom lip. They are on the main street, just passing the corner where Hawk shoved Louis onto the road and Louis tries not to flinch at the memory, as they make another turn.

“Louis,” His mother sighs and Louis is familiar with the tone she’s using. “We drove that road four times already, I don’t think—”

“Mother, please.” Louis sends her a wide-eyed look, “Or lemme get out of the car, I’ll just walk the alley a—”

“You walked that very alley so many times already, I think it’s safe to say that, this boy isn’t anywhere near it.”

Louis sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Of course Jay is right, Harry isn’t invisible. If he were anywhere near Louis, Louis would see him. There aren’t any hiding spots. “Maybe when we drive—” He starts to say, but his mother cuts in once more.

“Darling, let’s go back to Charlotte.”

“No,” Stubbornly he crosses his arms. He’s not even close to giving up. He knows Harry is in Manchester, they are so close and yet… the lump he’s been swallowing around all day long, grows and his throat closes in on itself. It gets harder to breathe and Louis is fucking done crying for the day. “I just…” He groans, frustrated and helpless. “I have to find him.”

“Looks like he doesn’t want to be found.” His mother states, setting the signal to make a turn, Louis glances outside, noticing that they are on the way back to Macclesfield. His heart throbs painfully.

“What are you doing?” He asks shakily. “We can’t drive back!”

“I won’t be driving the same roads over and over again, Louis. This makes no sense.”

“It makes no sense to go back to Macclesfield when Harry is in Manchester!” Louis snaps, his cheeks flushed and hands clenched into fists in his lap. Why can’t she understand that? “Drive back.” He orders, narrowing his eyes at her. “Drive back or I’m gonna jump out of the car.”

His mother actually snorts. “Sure, that’s gonna help this boy.”

“His name is Harry and he’s my boyfriend.” Louis repeats for the millionth time today.

“The boyfriend that left you? Maybe he has a secret lover.”

Louis did not miss this cold side of his mother. His stomach turns. “How can you say something like that?” He hisses. “Stop the fucking car.”

“We…are on the motorway, darling.” His mother glances at him briefly.

“I don’t fucking care.”

“Well, I do.”

Louis laughs coldly. “This is such a good turn of things for you, innit?” He makes a grimace. “You never wanted to find Harry in the first place.” He crosses his arms and kicks his legs out. “You said you wanna work on things and still…” He cuts himself off, getting worked up again.

“Don’t be unfair.”

“You don’t fucking understand.”

“Then explain it to me!” It’s the first time she raises her voice and it actually shocks Louis into silence.

Perplexed, he looks at her, and she huffs, fiddling with her hair and avoiding his eyes. “Explain this shit or I’ll drive straight back to London.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Louis snarls.

“Oh, trust me.” She laughs, hollow. “I would.”

When he doesn’t respond, she glances at him, lifting one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Tick, tock, tick, tock.” She says, bobbing her head from left to right like it’s all a game.

“Harry…” Louis starts, dropping his gaze to his lap. Fiddling with his fingers, he continues nervously, “is a dealer…for, uh, drugs.”

His mother takes a sharp inhale, but stays mute otherwise.

“He deals to help pay for Anne’s treatment.”

“Louis, you should be with someone like—”

“I love him, mum, so much.” Louis says wetly, shocking her into stunned silence. Rubbing at his eyes, his shoulders start trembling. “I love him, he is the one for me and…” He looks heavenward, breathing in, breathing out. “I need to find him, before something happens to him. He is only nineteen, mum —  _ Nineteen _ .” He winds his arms around his middle, trying to hold his ribcage together as his heart rips in half. He sinks his forehead against his thighs, doesn’t care that the seat belt is cutting into his throat.

“Tell me about him.”

“What?” Louis sits more upright, frowning at Jay, who looks at him with sad eyes.

“Tell me about Harry.” She repeats.

Louis gulps, gazing out the window, watching the cars they pass. Louis isn’t sure if they still are on their way to Macclesfield or if it’s a distraction from her secret plan to bring him to London. Either way, Louis is in the car and he can’t help Harry if he jumps into his own death. “Harry is amazing.” He starts with a hoarse voice. “Harry is a painter, you know? Proper artist.” A little smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. When he makes awkward eye contact with the driver in the car next to them, he averts his eyes to his hands. “Harry loves cooking, and is good at it too. To be honest…” Louis smiles at his mother, fondly and lost in thought, seeing the green of Harry’s eyes in his mind clearer than reality in front of him. “Whatever Harry starts, touches, it turns to gold. There is literally not one thing my boy isn’t good at.” His mother returns the smile at that and Louis rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Well, his jokes are bad, but I guess that’s all right.”

“He sounds lovely.” Jay nods, encouraging him to go on, so he does.

“Harry is the loveliest, he cares so much about everyone.” His smile turns soft. “He only got into the business to help his mum. His sister, Gemma, she’s just as lovely and so, so smart. She studies, gonna graduate next year,” Louis picks at a loose fray on his shirt. “He helped me a lot, you know?”

When his mother stays mute, he dares to explain. “With, you know, the drugs?” He wrinkles his nose, still isn’t too keen to say the words out loud, and to his mother, no less. “It’s a bit ironic, if you think of it, innit? A drug dealer helps someone not to take drugs anymore. But he did. He helped me. He got all our friends together and…they all helped and I’ll be forever grateful that they did that.” Louis can’t believe his luck, little did he know that he’d find the love of his life and the best friends he could have ever asked for in Macclesfield.

Macclesfield.

“Where are we going?” He asks, then, because after all, he’s not good at being emotionally vulnerable in front of anyone that isn’t Harry and he never imagined crying this much in front of his mum. What he needs is a topic change.

Jay sighs. “Don’t worry, we’re on the way to Macclesfield, not London.”

Well, that’s comforting. Louis nods, “Good, can we stop at Harry’s house?”

“You think he’s home?”

“No,” Louis chuckles humourlessly, “I don’t think he’s home but I’d rather spend the rest of my day at his.” To torture himself a little bit more, to sleep in the bed they shared, to be alone and lonely on top. Yeah, that sounds like the most pathetic plan he’s ever had. Also, he couldn’t stand being around people that pity him, that’s no help either.

“You won’t be doing anything stupid, Louis, right?” There is actual concern in her voice and it gives him a burst of odd sick pleasure, to know she cares to some point. The knowledge that his mother isn’t some heartless snake, ready to attack and bite and strangle and suck the life out of anyone that comes too close, makes his skin prickle. It’s all new, that they talk and kind of touch and smile, it’s new and Louis won’t ever get used to it, he thinks.

Maybe she’s lonely, too. Now that Mark left and she’s alone in London, sitting in that big posh city house with the maids coming in once a week to keep it from dusting in and rotting. Being lonely, with no other distractions gives you time to think, and when you start that train of thought, you start pitying yourself. Maybe his mother and him aren’t that different, after all.

One problem then the other, he reminds himself, Harry is more important right now and maybe Lara found something out.

“I won’t do anything stupid.” Louis promises weakly. He had that conversation with Harry once, and he thought to himself, how do you define ‘stupid’? You can’t. It’d be stupid not to look for Harry, it’d be stupid to linger around the house and not to worry, since the love of his life is missing.

That would be stupid, innit?

Louis gives his mother directions, too lazy to type the address in the navigation system and when the car comes to a halt in front of the house he has called home for the past weeks, his heart beats faster. “This is it.” He says, gulping.

“Louis,” When Louis looks at her, she licks her lips, averts her eyes and continues with a low voice, “I’m sure we’ll find Harry, but…I know you love him and he does sound lovely, don’t get me wrong, I just wish…do you think he’s—”

“Oh no,” Louis brows pull together, “you can’t decide to be a mother for one day, storm into my life and tell me the choice of boyfriend I made isn’t good enough.” The words are harsh and hard, but still true. “If anything, Harry deserves better. Harry is a good person.”

She looks at him with wide alarmed eyes, holding up her palms in surrender. “I just want the best for you.”

“Harry is the best for me.” Louis argues.

Her shoulders hunch. “Why do you have to be so difficult? Look at your sister—”

“Thanks for giving me a ride.” Louis cuts through her words, loudly. “Thanks for the shoes, but I think our mother-son bonding ends now.” Louis is an idiot, what did he expect, really? That his mum would show up, finally see the light and chose to be a proper, caring, loving mother. Think again, Louis, think again. Of course beliefs and behaviours never change overnight and maybe it’s too late for his mother to change at all. Whatever, he doesn’t have the nerve to have another crisis right now. It’d be unreasonable to let his hopes fall to the floor at this. He knows his mother.

She’s not Anne, she’s nothing like Anne. She is still Jay, the business woman with a broken heart and as bad as its sounds, Louis doesn’t have time for any of it.

He misses Harry.

“I will see you tomorrow?” Jay asks.

Louis shrugs, then nods, “Probably.”

They share tense smiles, then Louis unbuckles his seatbelt and is out of the car, closing the door forcefully and breathing in the fresh air. The house looks so innocent, he thinks, so familiar. Only when he walks up the stairs and reaches into his back pocket, he remembers with a long-suffering groan that he forgot his keys this morning. He drops his head with a bang against the solid door and chuckles humourlessly to himself, because…can this day get any worse?

Checking over his shoulder if Jay is still here, as pathetic it would be to climb back in the car, it’s better than camping outside. It looks like it might rain too, no thanks. Jay is gone, though, and Louis’ eyebrow twitches with annoyance.

Grand.

What now?

He always could sleep in the garage, last time he was in there, he saw a tent. Louis, thankfully, doesn’t have to go that far to survive the night, because just as he turns to walk down the steps, the door opens behind him and he spins around with big eyes.

Harry is home, Harry is home, Harry is…oh god—  

It’s not Harry that stands in the doorway, though and Louis hates himself a tad for getting his hopes up, even if it was just for a second. Of course Harry wouldn’t be home.

“Louis!” Niall grins brightly, “Mate, we’ve been waiting for y’ arse to arrive.” Niall pulls him into a tight embrace and Louis sinks into the hug, lets himself being dragged inside.

“How are you mate?” Niall asks on their way to the living room, still as a casual arm slung around Louis' shoulder.

“What do you think?” Louis grunts weakly. “I’m great, couldn’t be any better, Neil.”

Niall’s smile drops and his expression turns sad as well. “I’m sorry Louis.” He says with sincere blue eyes. “I love you man, we’ll find this idiot and drag him home, promise.”

“Has this happened before?” Louis wonders.

Niall purses his lips, then shrugs, arm falling from Louis' shoulder as they make it into the living room, “Yeah, at the beginning.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek and nods. “Where was he, then? Where did he run off to?”

“We don’t know.” Louis isn’t too surprised to see Lara sitting on the edge of the sofa, her brown hair a mess, tangled and greasy, under her brown usually warm eyes are heavy bags and her forehead is wrinkled with worry. Louis can sympathise and secretly is glad he’s not alone in this. Harry, after all, has the best friends in this world and a wave of gratitude washes over Louis for all of them. “Zayn knew, of course. He took care of Harry.”

“Could you reach him?” Louis asks, already knowing the answer, but since this day is full of surprises, he thinks, this wouldn’t be any different, innit?

Lara shakes her head, “Can’t even reach Liam and that’s kinda weird, since the boy jumps to the phone.”

“Fuck!” Louis exclaims.

“What do we know, so far?” Niall asks, sitting next to Lara and rubbing his hands together.

Louis starts pacing in front of the telly, pointedly avoiding the pictures on the bookshelf. “Anne is released from the Institution, which — Thank God.” Louis counts off his fingers. “Harry was in the Institution this morning, with Simon and…a ginger? Ed, Yeah…” He lifts his middle finger. “His phone is turned off and Zayn chooses today to be a ghost, same goes to Liam.”

“It’s a start.” Niall muses. “Ed lives in Manchester. I know that, but I never went to his flat.”

Louis trips on the rug, catching himself last second and kicking at the edge of it, like it’s its fault. He groans and ruffles through his hair. “How do we find someone that we know nothing of? I bet Ed isn’t even his real bloody name. Probably is called Andy or Rodger or some shit.”

Lara hums in thought and Niall stares at a spot on the coffee table like it holds all of the answers they need.

Louis craves to be alone.

“I’m gonna go for a smoke.” He forces out, and before anyone can join him, he’s outside, lit up cig dangling from the corner of his mouth and smoke curling artfully in front of his eyes. The sun has disappeared and so has all of his hope.

He gets the note out of his pocket, straightening the wrinkles out and reading it over again.

 

_ Don’t look for me. I love you. Always and Forever - H _

 

He swallows and takes a much needed drag of his glimmering cig. The breeze whirls around him and a shiver runs down his spine. His fine arm hair sticks up but he is too numb to feel the cold or the first drops of rain. 

“Where are you, my love?” Louis whispers at the note. “What happened?”

The note doesn’t answer and the world keeps turning, although his world shattered this morning when he woke up alone.

When more drops soak the note in his hand, he puts it back and finishes his cigarette, trying hard not to think.

Back inside the warmth, he flops down next to Lara on the sofa. Immediately she curls against his side like a cat and pats his tummy in a comforting manner.  

“I’m starving.” Louis announces, remembering only now that he hasn’t eaten all day, actually. No wonder his stomach twists in pain and growls at him angrily.

What do young adults without any motivation and a dear friend missing do? - They order in.

When the takeaway arrives, they eat in silence. Usually, they chatter amongst themselves, loud and mostly talking over each other, everyone always having something to say, to explain, to announce, to wonder and laugh about. The silence that hovers over them is like a thick fog and even now that Louis’ stomach is full, it still twists uneasily when Niall, the most talkative human on earth, keeps his thoughts to himself.

“How are Amanda and Belle?” Louis asks, just to say something, although he is actually curious.

Lara and Niall look at him, then share a look between each other.

“Amanda is grand.” Niall is the first one to speak, eyes lighting up a tiny bit. “She is going to Rome next week, meeting some internet friend. How sick is that?”

“I’ve never been to Rome.” Lara pouts. “You tagging along?”

“Nah,” Niall grins, “wanna give ‘er some time with this girl.”

Lara quirks an eyebrow. “You sure…she’s…”

“Yes, Lala, I am sure it’s just a friend.” Niall rolls his eyes, “What about you and Belle, eh? She’s not with the doc, now, is she?”

Lara makes an offended noise in the back of her throat. “Excuse you, Niall, but this isn’t some weird rom-com. She is very much gay and loves my tits.”

Niall and Lara start bickering and Louis watches them with a tiny fond smile curling at the corners of his lips. At least he’s gotten them to talk, he thinks when Lara tackles Niall and ruffles his hair. In return, Niall  kicks at her side and she falls off the sofa with a deafening shriek. Niall lets out a loud cackle as she stays on the ground, staring at the ceiling and probably questioning her friendship with the Irish lad. Louis has been there, too. No regrets, though, since Niall has the ability to brighten the room with his laugh that literally goes like ‘ _ Ha, Ha, Ha _ ’.

From there on, the mood shifts from somber and miserable to something more light, and although the usual banters replace the silence now, one presence is missing that no one can ignore. Louis misses the bad jokes Harry throws in whenever he can and he misses the warmth that radiates off Harry’s body and he misses the weight of Harry’s arm wrapped around Louis' shoulder, tucking him in.

“Hey,” Louis chimes into a conversation about pickles (Louis has no idea how they got there, but…is he surprised? Not one bit, they are that kind of weird, after all). Once he’s gotten the attention he was seeking, he carries on, “Remember when Harry was so high he rolled himself up in the rug and kept yelling he was a burrito now?” He chuckles at the memory, recalling how much out of their minds they were that night, the living room a mess of beer bottles and the coffee table more of a rubbish bin than anything else. That night, Harry refused to eat anything else but burritos, but the stores had closed when his boy’s munchies kicked in.

Niall’s loud laugh brings him out of the memory, “Oh yeah!” the Irish lad grins, showing his white teeth. “I think he cried when he found out what time it was.”

Lara chuckles. “No, I know he cried.” She recalls, smile turning soft.

“After that, he stocked up all the stuff to make burritos, did you know?” Louis declares, grinning, when Lara and Niall laugh and roll their eyes.

“Remember when Haz tried to do the lift from Dirty Dancing with me?” Lara asks, Niall and Louis wince at that, because, yes, Louis can remember the disaster. Harry could lift Lara, but Lara couldn’t balance and smashed her face against the wall, as Harry lost hold on her.

Niall sighs. “Remember when Harry…” He chuckles breathlessly, “Remember, when he pretended to be a pirate, after we watched The Curse of the Caribbean and got a clip earring with a cross?”

Louis frowns. “Hey, he looked good! The earring suited him well.” Louis actually tried to persuade Harry to get a real earring for a long while after, because…well, the pirate look was something else. Harry makes a good pirate, also the sex after they had the house for themselves was a plus: Harry tied to the bed with his bandanas, earring dangling with each thrust of Louis' hips. He really, really likes that memory, and realizes maybe he likes it too much when he blinks and sees the horrified expressions on his friends faces.

“We really, really don’t wanna know.” Lara says, holding up her palm to stop him from spilling any details. Louis’ cheeks turn a tad red and Niall laughs out loud, clapping Louis on the shoulder.

“Remember when Harry…” Louis switches memories and, well, so it goes. They play the  _ Remember When Harry Game _ and time ticks on while they forget a bit about the situation at hand. Their worries fall off their shoulders and the weird gut feeling loosens a bit, as they exchange stories and inside jokes.

It’s all brilliant, good, amazing until the clock shows past midnight and Niall announces it’d be best to call it a night and get some sleep.

“I can’t go to bed.” Louis frowns at his blonde friend.

“Why not?”

Why…why not? Louis blinks aghast. There a multiply reasons why can’t go to bed. First: Harry is still missing and if anyone thinks he can get any sleep while his shoulder is cold and his heart feels heavy and empty, they can fuck right off. Second: the bedroom, obviously. Louis can’t sleep in that very bed where Harry and Louis had made love just the night prior, hell, even on the same sheets still. Third: what if Harry calls? Or Zayn? Or someone who knows where to look for Harry? What if he misses the most important call of his life?

Sleep, as good as it sounds to his tired eyelids, is out of the question. Never was in the picture in the first place.

Louis stays mute and glares at Niall, offended, hurt, sad, and scared. Too many emotions for one person to handle, that is.

Niall sighs, giving in and patting Louis' shoulder. “We all have our phones turned on, mate.” He says, “If anyone gets a call we’ll let you know, yeah?” Lara nods in agreement and smiles, sleepy and yet sad, at Louis, who can’t ask for more.

Lara and Niall leave him with warm goodbye hugs and promises that everything will be alright, that Harry is probably selling in some shabby strip club or sleeping on some other dealer’s sofa, and - isn’t that just extraordinarily calming?

Louis doesn’t respond, just says his own goodbye and leans against the closed door after his friends have walked into the dark, since Lara’s car is in the shop or something.

Being alone is much harder than Louis thought. His gaze darts to the pictures on the bookshelf, his eyes taking in the bright, happy smiles on the faces of his favourite people in the world. A family that deserves nothing but the best, and yet all they got is to experience pain. When he can’t take it anymore, he storms over, putting the pictures face down on the wood.

It doesn’t help.

Louis chain-smokes out in the cold to stay awake, slapping himself in the face now and then to startle him into the present and get himself out of the past. The pain lingers and so does the feeling of helplessness. When the moon shines through the clouds, Louis misses his personal, favourite moon more than ever and sends a glare at the round shining circle in the sky.

Louis tries calling Harry again. He never quite stopped during the day, but the results were always the same. Just like now, his call goes straight to the voicemail — on both numbers.

He spends some time answering messages from Lottie and texts back and forth with Nick, since that bloody idiot is still very much alive, despite his little prank on Hawk and the debt shit he got out of, thankfully. He finally came to his senses and took Louis much more seriously. After what happened between Hawk and Louis, he stayed away from the whole drug scene. Louis is proud of Nick, so to say.

It’s four in the morning and Louis' body feels fuzzy with the lack of sleep. He stumbles upstairs, giving up on staying out but refusing to turn on the lights when he gets to the bedroom. He clambers into the bed, back turned stubbornly to Harry’s side.

Louis checks his phone one last time (no interesting or hopeful messages, no sign from Harry, Zayn or Liam) and closes then his eyes, phone still in hand when sleep washes over him.

The nightmares that come startle him awake and he blinks around the darkness, feeling a presence that isn’t there and crying pathetically into Harry’s pillow,  breathing in the cologne that Louis couldn’t stand when they first met.

A noise cuts through his dream of green trees and fields and just as green eyes, and Louis frowns. He was just in such a good place, felt warm and loved and protected. Louis doesn’t want to leave just yet, he had found peace after such a long suffering time. However the sound doesn’t stop and the more Louis comes to consciousness, the louder it seems to get. With a raspy groan, he blinks his eyes open, staring into the dark. What?

The noise stops then and Louis smiles, sinking more into the mattress. Finally, now he can go back to his safe haven.

It starts again and Louis' eyebrow twitches with nerves. “Haz, get tha’ yea’?” He mumbles, smacking his lips together. There is no response. “Harry, c’mon, wake up. Bet it’s yours anyway.” He says, pouting.

When the bloody phone still is ringing, Louis rips his lids open, because holy fucking shit. What. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling for one little second until his mushy mind catches up with the situation and he jolts upright, reaching for the phone and hitting the accept button so hard he thinks the phone might break in two.

“Hello?” His heart beats loudly in the quiet room. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Zayn, thank fuck.” Louis cries out. “Do you know anything?”

Silence.

“Listen, I can’t. I don’t…” Zayn starts and Louis knows.

He bangs his head against the headboard, closing his eyes as hot tears crawl up his throat. “Zee…” He whimpers. “I know he’s with some other d-dealer. If you…if you can’t speak right now.” He hiccups. “Just say pizza if he’s with another dealer.”

There is a hesitant pause on the other line, then — “Pizza.”

Louis sits more straight, duvet pooling in his lap. “Ed. He is with Ed, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Zayn confirms quietly.

“If you know the address of his flat, say, uh. Pineapple.” Louis urges, speaking too fast for his own tongue.

He hears Zayn swallow, “Pineapple.”

Louis presses his thumb in the inner corner of his eye and allows himself to feel relief. “Okay, okay, that’s grand.” Now, how does he get the address if Zayn can’t talk freely? “Manchester? Say, no extra cheese, if it’s in Manchester.”

“Uh…no extra cheese, mate.”

Okay, so far it’s nothing new, but it’s a good thing to get it all confirmed. It’s a start. Louis can do this.

“Send me the address.” Louis says quickly.

“No ham, no.”

“Zayn, this is  _ Harry _ we’re talking about.” He hisses.

“I know the price…” Pause, then. “Okay, thanks, mate. Pizza will be there in fifteen minutes, yeah? Cheers.”

_ What? _

Then that fucker hangs up and Louis is left with nothing.

Brilliant, just brilliant.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and gets dressed. He has no real idea what to do, but sitting in bed won’t bring him closer to finding Harry. When he is dressed in all black and his hair is held back by a blue thin hairband, he glances at his phone anxiously. It just lays there on the sheets: innocent and useless.

Ten minutes pass, in which he just stands there, waiting for something to happen. He is ready to run and this time he gets the feeling it will be the final time.

His hands shake as he pockets his phone and breathes in the smell of his favourite room in the whole wide world. When he closes the door, it all feels like a goodbye. This time around, he doesn’t forget the keys, and as he slips them in the pocket of his denim jacket his fingers curl around the note.

Fuck.

He will probably take the train to Manchester or the bus, if there is one. Thing is, it’s still the middle of the night. Grizzling fog hangs in the air and people tucked safely inside their homes are still sleeping. Louis lights a cig when he passes the diner and he finishes it, just when he arrives at Lottie’s house.

It’s all dark. His mother's car is parked out front and Tommy’s is in the driveway. This isn’t the train station, he thinks, this isn’t a bus-stop. This isn’t where he wanted to go, but here he is, anyway.

He gets his keys out, unlocking the door and entering the quiet house. Of course, they are all sleeping, it’s early.

His phone beeps once in his jacket taking him by surprise and making him jump. He shakes his head at himself and is quick to get it out.

There on his scratched display is a new message from Zayn; it’s an address and Louis doesn’t have to ask where it leads to…this is it. He’s got the address.

This is it. Unbelieving, Louis gulps.

“Louis?”

Again, he’s caught off guard, jumping out of his skin and spinning around as his mother rubs a sleepy hand over her make-up-free face and blinks at him, confused.

“I need your car.” He says with a galloping heart.

She eyes him for a moment. He bites his lip, holding his phone in a death-grip.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Jay asks, calm.

“I don’t know.” Louis hasn’t had the time to think about what will happen when he finally gets to his boy. He hasn’t thought about leaving or running away. Louis never dared to go this far, but now, with the address…he thinks it’s the only option they have. Louis refuses to let his mind wander to the possibility that it’s too late. “I need your car.” He repeats numbly.

She nods. “I…” Jay swallows and gets to her feet. She pads over to him, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry for everything, Louis. I love you.”

He gives himself a moment to just feel the words, to let his heart flutter at the statement. He pulls her into a hug and again — it feels final.

“I…kind of knew.” Jay says. “I knew so I…” She avoids his eyes as they part and steps to the sofa, fumbling with her purse. “I got some cash. I thought just in case, you know?”

Louis blinks, dumbfounded.

“So, take it.” She says, handing him a stack of what looks like five thousand pounds and the keys to her beloved car. “Take it. Get your boy, and be safe, dear. Please.” There are tears glistening in her eyes as he accepts the money and the keys.

“Thank you, mum.” He chokes out, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry too.”

“Shh…” She pulls him in another hug.

“We’ll see each other again.” Louis says, sniffing wetly.

“Of course.” She says the words like she doesn’t believe them. Louis' heart clenches.

“Tell Charlotte, I love her.” Louis says. “Tell Tommy if he isn’t the best dad for their child, I’ll come back just to hurt him.”

They share a quiet smile, then Louis directs his gaze to the things in his hand, probably the most important items, ever.

He sniffs once more, then —

He just…leaves.

 

***    *    ***  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *if you liked it, leave a comment and/or kudos, pretty, pretty please, hehe <3* 
> 
> Bang, bang, bammm! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! how are you guys feeling? x


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday, enjoy! x

 

***     *     ***

 

 

Louis leaves his sister’s house, lets the door fall shut with a final click and switches to autopilot. Keys, money, plan set in mind. His steps don’t falter on the pavement as he nears his mother’s car and just for a moment he thinks blankly what he would have given to drive it when he still lived in London. He would’ve given everything, literally.

Now, Louis can’t even bring himself to smile or bat an eye at the luxurious wagon. He simply makes his way to the driver’s side, unlocks it and jumps inside.

Well, all right - it  _ is _ a sick car, the engine quiet and the led-lights bright. It glides over the street like it’s floating, like a ship on water, not wheels on the street.

He turns the volume of the radio up until it numbs his thoughts and all the noises surrounding him as he drives onto the motorway, picking up speed as there are only a few other cars.

Louis has never gotten to Manchester quicker, and thank  _ fuck _ for the navigation system that leads him to the right address - he'd never have found it on his own.

Killing the engine, he glimpses out of the window, warily taking in the decrepit building in a shady neighbourhood. Louis notices a bunch of dark figures lingering at the entrance with a gulp and inhales through his nostrils, willing the fear that's creeping up his throat to be tamed already.

He has five grand in cash and a really,  _ really _ expensive car. This cannot go well, he muses with a narrow of his eyes, but gets out anyway and locks said car with a press of the button on the keys. It honks once, signalling it's locked and he curses under his breath at the loud noise in the quiet environment.

_ This will go so wrong _ , he thinks darkly, when all of their heads turn towards him in unison as he trots closer with clammy hands and a pounding heart.  _ This will go just so wrong. _

“Hello,  hello .” One of them says. Louis can’t be sure who’s speaking, their faces hidden under hoods. Well, if that’s not super-duper calming, eh? “Whatcha doin’ ‘ere, mate? Not lookin’ like ya belong.”

“I actually do.” Louis states with an impressively even voice. He is here for Harry, after all, and that gives him a burst of strength. Some freaks under hoods won’t scare him off. Not quite. Perhaps...

“Eh?” The same guy says.

“Simon sent me.”

One of them hisses and Louis thinks it’s a success, in some fucked way.

“Simon, eh?” All of them share a look. Louis gulps.

“Simon,” Louis affirms confidently, though his brow twitches in stress.

Interestingly enough, they step aside and let Louis pass, but when he enters the building, something weird tugs inside of his gut. This was almost too easy.

He dashes up the stairs, but the flat is on the fifth level and Louis hasn’t done any cardio since forever. When he arrives, he pants, taking a short moment to just catch his breath and fill his stinging lungs with oxygen. The smell in the stairway isn’t too pleasant. It smells like piss and something else, and Louis gags when he finds out that ‘ _ something else _ ’ is at least days old dried vomit on the metallic coloured ground.

Louis jumps over a puddle of —  _ something _ and reaches the door, number ten. Ten, probably for ten reasons not to enter. He knocks anyway and is not surprised when nobody answers. He knocks again.

“Hello?” He calls, knocking and knocking until his knuckles start to hurt. He is sure the whole building has heard him except the people inside this flat. Louis is so, so, so sure Harry is here.

There is no sign that someone will answer the door, however, Louis is here and he won’t leave until Harry is by his side. He takes a step back, followed by another, then he starts jogging and lets his shoulder collide with the door. The loud bang echoes through the corridor and his shoulder throbs in tingling pain. He repeats it, but nothing happens. The door doesn't crack like he thought it would eventually and all he’s gotten out of it is a numb shoulder.

“Son, what in  _ god's name _ are you  _ doing _ ?”

Louis stops in his motion to run against the wood again, when the door opens and an older man stands in front of him, night robe slung around his fragile body frame and a grumpy expression making his face wrinkly.

“ _ Uhhhhh _ …” Louis draws out, blinking in confusion. “You’re not Ed.” He states. It’s not a question, the man’s hair is grey not red and he looks in the middle of his sixties. 

The man frowns back at him. “I’m not Ed.”

They stare at each other. Louis' shoulder still prickles with ache. When Louis realises that the man won’t say anything else, his heart sags to his feet.

“Well,” Louis says when he finds his voice, “thanks.” He continues for the lack to say anything else, he makes a gesture at the open door. “I’m sorry…for…like running against your…uh,  _ door _ .” He scratches his neck, taking a step back. “That was rude.”

Silence.

“You want a cuppa?” The man asks.

Louis blinks, the man blinks back.

“Actually, I really need to talk to my mate Ed.”

“It’s early, lemme make you something warm. You look a bit pale, there, son. Are you sick?”

Louis really, really, wants to refuse the offer and make a run for it, as nice as chatting to the man over cups of tea would be - he kind of…has somewhere to be.

“Like you said, it’s early.” Louis says. “Can’t blame me for looking like the dead.”

The man bobs his head. Louis becomes restless.  

“I think I’ve got something for you.” Is this the new ‘ _ you kids want some sweets?’ _ -trick? The voice of the man is urging and his brown eyes widen slightly. Only then, Louis notices the group from earlier lingering at the far end of the hallway and yeah, thanks but no thanks, Louis nods in understanding, passing the man with a forced smile.

The inside of the flat is just like the outside, unwelcoming and something out of a bad and low-budget horror movie. There are glass figures decorating every surface, the walls are painted in an ugly not-quite-mint-green, and the kitchen window is broken.

Louis avoids looking at the creepy smiling porcelain doll in the high-chair for children and clears his throat as the man offers him a plastic chair at the square shaped table in the dingy kitchen. For the lack of anything better to do, Louis sits down, awkwardly fiddling with his fingers. The stack of money burns in his pocket and so does the note, a steady reminder that he should be on his way, not taking the tea cup from the man and eyeing the cup warily before taking a careful sip.

“Those boys outside,” The man starts, sitting down and sniffing at his tea. He gets up again and Louis watches him get a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet. The man sways it side to side in Louis' direction, but Louis shakes his head with a tight smile and the gruff man shrugs, nonchalant. “They wanted to speak to your friend, too. They haven’t left ever since, though I told ‘em he isn't living here anymore. They’re foolish enough to think he'll return.”

When Louis stays mute (because, what the hell is he supposed to say to something like that) the man without name, continues, “Your friend is pretty popular.” He pours the vodka in his tea and stirs it with a spoon, then he falls into the chair with a grunt. Louis eyes the bottle, reserved. “I knew they were bad news. So I didn’t tell ‘em a damn thing.” He coughs once and clears his throat.

Louis looks up at that, tilting his head as his thoughts cloud with confusion. “Does that mean…” He licks his lips, brows pulled together. “You know where he lives currently?”

The man takes his sweet time to take a sip from his tea, pulling a face at the taste and shrugging, unresponsive. “I might.”

Louis closes his eyes briefly. “Sir, if you know something, please tell me. I don’t have time for games.”

“Don’t  _ Sir _ me, I’m not that old.” The man chuckles hoarsely and coughs again. Louis raises his eyebrows and the man waves a lethargic hand in the air. “Vodka keeps me going.”

The man won’t spill a thing, Louis realises. He is probably lonely and likes to tell stories. With that in mind, Louis gets to his feet, chair scratching over the wooden floor with a hair-raising noise. “I’m sorry, thank you for the…eh,  _ tea _ . But I really gotta go.”

“I got the address.”

“You  _ don’t _ .” Louis says matter-of-factly. “And I  _ don’t _ have time.”

“Son, I know Eddie’s a goddamn dealer for this Simon. And I won’t let you get to him to drag him back to that- that,  _ man _ !” He gets up too and they level each other with a heated glare.

“This isn’t what this is about, I don’t work for Simon.”

“Those guys outside are from the other gang, when you leave they’ll beat you.”

“What are you saying? I should just hide in here?” Louis opens his arms, cheeks flushing with rage. “I need to get to Harr—”  _ Whoops _ .

The man lifts his brows.

“ _ Ed _ …” Louis says quickly. “I need to see  _ Ed _ . Eddie-Ed, my pal.”

“Simon took my granddaughter.”

Louis frowns at the sudden change of conversation. “What?”

“He took my granddaughter and all I’ve got left is Ed.” The man chuckles wetly, coughing afterwards. “They took her and I haven’t seen her ever since. All I want is to keep Ed safe, y’know?”

“I’m not going after Ed.” Louis says sincerely, shoulders sagging as the heat of the fight leaves him. “Whatever happened to your grandchild, I’m sorry,  _ truly _ , but my…boyfriend is with Ed and they could be in danger.”

The man glances out of the broken window, then at his tea. Louis tries very, very, hard not to let his annoyance show. He’s so close to getting to Harry, he can’t fuck this up.

The old man sighs, “Alright, son, alright.” He finally says and leaves the room. Time ticks on and Louis' heart starts pounding harder with each passing second. Louis gets his phone out, frowning when he sees a call from an unknown number. He hadn’t heard his phone ring.

“Here you go.” The man offers him a simple note. “I hope you find them. Safe and alive.”

Louis gulps, accepting the note and pocketing it with Harry’s post-it.

“Thank you.” Louis says, forcing a smile.

“You too, be safe, yeah? Can’t lose all the good youth to the drugs.” The man smiles sadly, leading Louis to the living room instead the front door.

“Uh…” He glances around, “What?”

“The fire-escape, the others are still out front. Can’t have you running into them, now that you’ve got the address.”

Right.

“Thank you.” Louis repeats, and this time his smile is a tad more sincere, “I'm sorry about your granddaughter.” He hopes the man knows how much he means it, even if he can’t show it properly, with all the racing thoughts in his mind.

The man claps him on the shoulder with a muttered ‘thank you’ and sad, sad eyes, then he gives him a good push towards the window that leads to the ladder. “Don't fall.”

Adrenaline pumps through Louis’ veins when he turns his back to the view, clammy hands sliding at the railing. Well, let’s break a leg, eh?

Louis almost loses hold twice, heart more pounding in his head than his chest, as his feet try blindly to reach the step below.

“Harry.” He mutters under his shaky, thin breath, “I do this for Harry, because I—” He gulps, when his foot can’t find the next step, “I fucking…” He is so gone for Harry. Look at him, trying to climb a ladder from the fifth level of a run-down-horror-movie-like building, trying to escape fucking gang members, that are waiting for him like dogs for a treat.

He doesn't want to be a treat.

The cold six o’clock morning air whirls around him, tears at his jacket and brushes his hair in every direction possible. He is going to die. His ears burn with the cold and he heaves a great sigh of relief when his feet touch  _ solid _ ground. Louis sways in place, his knees wobbly.

“Fucking shit.” He mutters and brushes off dust from his black trousers. He peers around the corner, checking if those knobs are anywhere near. When the air is clear, he falls into a light jog, his eyes fixed on his car, that thankfully is still there.

He only lets himself breathe when he’s made it inside, taking a second to roll his head around his neck and blink heavenward.

Louis is alright: he did not fall down the poor excuse of a fire-escape and he did not run into those freaks with missing teeth reeking of days old sweat who could end his life in a blink of an eye without remorse.

Louis starts the car just when the door to the building flies open. Louis doesn’t have to check who it is; he knows and he gives them no chance to get to him. He speeds away, wheels shrieking and engine roaring..

Only once he’s at a safe distance, he pulls over, entering the address into the navigation system and praying to all the gods out there that it’s the right and the current one this time around. When the robotic voice purrs out of the speakers, Louis hits the main road, cursing at the sudden morning traffic. Cars honk, drivers yell, and Louis gets a throbbing headache in his temples.

He rubs soothing circles at the corner of his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he has to stop at a red light. The robotic voice tells him to take a left turn at the next crossway and when she finishes with the promise Louis will be at his destination, he drops his hand in his lap and inhales deeply. This is it. If it’s not the right building, Louis is done. The paper the man gave him is his only and last hope to find Harry.

The light turns green and Louis hits the petal. He makes the left turn, just like the voice said and glances out of the window, taking in the  _ posh _ neighbourhood.

Seeing the difference between the two buildings sets another feeling of fear loose. This cannot be right, Louis thinks, getting out of the car anyway and locking it. The building is a big, greyish house with its own parking lot, which is filled with bloody  _ fancy _ cars.

“Well, damn.” Louis mutters, blinking in confusion. It only lasts so long, because - seriously, whatever.

Posh neighbourhood is it then. Not was Louis expected, but better than some hood where he has to be scared for his life and check over his shoulder every second.

He stalks to the entrance, and a light turns on. Louis notices with a shiver that the building is set up with security cameras. Louis has a gut feeling that it’s not for safety reasons, and he quickly looks away, tucking the collar of his jacket up to hide his face.

Louis gets the crumbled note out of his pocket, smoothing it with a quick slide of his palm.

There is no name listed, just four simple numbers and 3A scribbled next to them. Louis purses his lips in concentration.

“What…” His shifts his weight, glancing up and looking for some machine to type in the given PIN. With a pounding heart and shaky fingers, he presses down the buttons. When the buzz sound alerts him that he, indeed, can enter the building, he releases a heavy sigh. Thank fuck.

The lobby is spacious and held in white, the lift right in front of Louis. To his left and right are two stairways and today, Louis thinks, it’s a good idea to climb some more steps. He doesn’t want to risk getting stuck in a lift. So, with another shaky exhale, he dashes up the stairs. At least, Louis muses, panting and with burning ribs, the building is devoid of urine and vomit.

When he reaches the third level, he takes a moment to get his overworked heart to slow down and calms his breath, which is the only noise in the too quiet building.

He drags his feet along the hallway, sniffling as he reaches the door labeled A.

This is it.

His last hope.

Louis knocks three loud times, then rings the doorbell right after. He isn’t surprised when no one answers it this time, just sighs and takes a couple of steps back. This door seems more stable than the other, but Louis is full of buzzing energy and adrenaline is giving him some power, too. So, he throws his shoulder against the closed door with all the strength he has. He jogs back again, and repeats it. The bang is not as loud in the hallway and Louis hopes no one will come investigating what’s going on, since he is trying to break into a flat and all. However, the door doesn’t give in, is still closed and free of any damage. It kind of mocks him and he narrows his eyes.

“Fucking shit.” He mutters, rubbing his sore shoulder.

It looked all too easy in movies. They throw themselves at a door for a handful of times and bang - the door gives in. Or they use cool tricks with hair pins and credit cards, but…

Louis frowns, then his eyebrows lift and his eyes widen, his mouth forming a little surprised O.

Credit card, eh?

He jumps into action, wasting no more time standing around aimlessly, and gets his wallet out of his back pocket, taking his useless, frozen credit card out.

It might still be frozen, but it's not so useless anymore. Louis allows himself a grin at that thought, bending forward so he’s on eye level with the lock and poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he slides the card through the little gap.

It doesn’t work. Louis is motivated enough though, and he tries again, refusing to let the little ball of hope in his chest die that easily.

He slides it through the gap and twists the handle at the same time, then hears a soft click as the door opens with a quick kick of his shoe.

No way, what?

Perplexed he stares at the open door, because holy shit? It worked? So much for movies being a waste of time. His lips twitch in satisfaction for one second, then he enters and…

No…

Louis is greeted by a foul smell that causes his eyes to water. Gagging, he covers his mouth and nose with his palm to keep him from vomiting all over the hardwood floor. Biting bitter bile raises anyway and he swallows it down, feeling it settle heavily in his turning and twisting stomach.

Please, let Harry not be here, Louis thinks as he takes a tiny step forward and lets the door click closed again behind him.

The only source of light comes from the gaps of the blinds, and it takes a moment of just standing in the hallway for his eyes to get used to it. Then, he takes in his surroundings.

There are dead flowers in a vase, it’s the first thing he notices. The roses hang their sad, dried heads and Louis knows, the awful smell can’t come from some dead plants, right? He hopes he is wrong. He makes his way further into the flat, the floorboard crying under his weight, and the more he leaves the exit behind, the worse the smell becomes. It’s all consuming and Louis has to stop, gagging again.

He hears a rustling coming from the room at the far end of the corridor. The door is closed but Louis can hear steps and his heart pumps faster, fear and hope tearing at it.

_ Fuck _ . There is another noise that sets Louis in motion. He lurks forward, trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible. Before he opens the door, he presses his ear against the wood, listening with held-in breath.

Louis can’t hear a thing though, like whoever is in there knows he isn’t alone anymore and stopped what they were doing. Only now he realises he has no weapon to defend himself, nothing,  _ nada _ . Fucking hell, Louis is the worst secret-hero-spy-saviour on this planet. He isn’t even strong enough with his fists, now is he? The only thing is he good at is…well  _ running _ .

At least it’s something, he muses, taking a step forward, his hand hovering over the door handle.

“Do it, you bloody chicken.” He whispers to himself, swallowing his panic down and pushing the door open in one big whoosh.

Louis didn’t know what he expected. Maybe Harry sitting in the room surrounded by other gruff looking dealers; maybe he hoped he’d find Harry sleeping peacefully, blinking his eyes open and smiling at him, asking him what he is doing here; maybe he expected some guy attacking him the moment the door swings open…

What he didn’t expect is to find the room in complete darkness, the presence of another human being only noticeable because they start whimpering when Louis takes a careful step inside. What he didn’t expect, is that the foul smell is much worse in here. Louis never thought that could be possible.

“Y-you said three days.” Comes from a shaky hoarse voice. “You— you said three d-days? I…g-gimme one m-minute. Please.”

Louis switches the lights on and immediately really wishes he hadn’t .

The person hiccups a sob, but Louis can’t focus on anything but the body on the bed, under the sheets, face covered and…Louis is sure the smell comes from that very body, which means that human being on the bed is…dead. Louis' arm hair sticks up.

His heart throbs to his feet and he is certain he has stopped breathing altogether. There is a shift and Louis blinks the shock away, directing his wide-eyed gaze to the person cowering next to the bed, back pressed against the wall.

Harry has his eyes closed, his knees drawn to his chest and… Louis swallows thickly, tears spilling over his cheeks as he takes a very, very, very careful step forward. Harry has a gun pressed to his own throat, his hand shaking so bad, the shaft of the gun slides over his skin, but his finger is on the trigger, ready to pull.

Harry hiccups again, holding the gun with a death-grip now and whimpers.

“H-Harry…” Louis whispers, fearing  speaking louder and accidentally triggering Harry into shoot himself in the head. “Harry, it’s me.” He says with a shaky voice. He restrains his own sob as Harry squeezes his eyes more shut and presses the gun more firmly in his skin. Louis swallows.

Louis steps forward and crouches next to the bed frame, pointedly ignoring the body on the bed, “Baby…” He murmurs, breathless. “Open your eyes.”

“J-just gimme a minute, I-I can do it.” He cries.

Shit, what is Louis supposed to do? He gets the feeling that if he does one wrong, too fast move, Harry will actually pull the trigger. He also gets the feeling, if he doesn’t do anything at all, Harry will actually pull the trigger. Louis must force Harry to open his eyes.

He is startled out of his thoughts as Harry starts to laugh hysterically, the sound shrilly echoing off the walls in the bedroom, his whole body frame wracking as his chest vibrates with breathless, honking giggles.

Louis blinks, stunned.

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Harry laughs, throwing his head back against the wall with a bang. He, then, opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants. “Just…I  _ can’t _ do it, when you keep looking, James.” He starts laughing again more quietly. “Just get some tea or summat, you’ll know when I’m dead.” His voice cracks at the end and a choked sob leaves his raw bitten lips.

There is no greater horror than watching someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes.

_ What have they done to him? _

“Harry…” Louis’ broken whisper is swallowed by Harry’s heart-splitting weeping.

Suddenly Harry sobers and closes his eyes. With another exhale he steadies the gun, holding it in the same position as he had before.

Louis knows, this is it. He’ll do it no matter if he thinks James is still present or not. He’ll do it. Realising staring at Harry won’t help either of them, Louis braces himself. 

Harry’s lips move tonelessly, as if he’s praying, and Louis seizes his chance.

With a hammering heart, he takes a great risk, launching forward and slapping the gun out of Harry’s hold. The gun falls to the ground with a clatter, and Harry manically grabs at it, trying to get it between his hands again, but Louis is quicker, kicking it under the bed and getting a hold on Harry’s wrist.

“Please, don’t…I’ll be good, I’ll do it…” He cries with shut lids and trembling lips, his whole body shaking in fear and vibrating with choked sobs. “Don’t…d-don’t kill me. I was just about to! Let me do it myself.”

Louis lets go of his frightened boy. “Harry, look at me.” Louis pleads, sobbing himself, can’t hold back the little whimpers any longer. He sniffs loudly. Rubbing his nose with his bare wrist. “Look at me.  _ Please _ .”

Then, Harry blinks and his reddened eyes clear a bit when he looks straight at Louis. His gaze flickers searching over Louis' face, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Am I already dead?”

“You're...no, you're not, H.” Louis murmurs.

Harry cups Louis' cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone and swallowing thickly. Louis leans into the gentle touch. “I should’ve followed my own advice, Louis.” Harry whispers brokenly. “Don’t mix business with love. You can’t be here, Lou. You can’t. James is coming.” 

“Then let’s go, baby. Let’s get out of here.” Louis pleads, taking Harry’s hand in his.

Harry shakes his head fiercely, then his dark rimmed eyes widen with panic. “Fuck, Louis.” He breathes. “You’re here.” 

“I am.” Louis narrows his eyes, confused. “If you think I’ll leave you here to commit suicide…” 

“You can’t be here.” Harry whimpers, shaking Louis' shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come.” 

With a glance to the bed, to the dead body, Louis whispers barely audible, “What happened?” 

Harry swallows. “We were mugged. Everything is gone, Louis. They took all the drugs, all of the money, m-my car…” He hiccups. “This is our punishment. They won’t let us get away. If I’m not killing myself, they sure will.” 

“This…” Louis frowns. “This is bullshit, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He shakes his head manically. “No, no Louis you don’t understand. We can’t leave, there is no way out.” 

“I’m pretty sure I entered through a door.” 

Harry chuckles humourlessly. “It’s locked…you only can open it from the outside.”  He grins sharply at Louis. “Trust me, I tried.” 

“So what? You wanna give up?” Louis’ voice raises, and he furrows his brows. 

Harry sets his jaw, grinding his teeth together and scooting away from Louis. Only then, Louis notices what Harry is wearing…what once used to be a shirt that Louis loved to see Harry in, is now barely recognisable, nothing more than a tatter that hangs loose around Harry’s shoulders. It’s ripped on his stomach, and where it used to be clean and white, it’s now soaked with brown dried blood. Through the holes Louis can make out yellow bruises and a wound that is crusted and leaking purulence. 

“Harry…” Louis gulps, eyes still fixed on the wounds. He outstretches his hand, but Harry flinches from his touch. Louis tears up again. “We need to find a way out.” He says, firmly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Harry hisses, “Don’t fucking dare to pity me, Louis. I told you to stay away.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

They stare at each other, then the tense silence is broken by the opening of the front door. Their eyes widen in shock. 

Harry makes a wild gesture with his hand, pointing to the bed. Louis shakes his head quickly, mouthing, ‘ _ Not gonna leave you _ ’ to Harry. 

Harry clenches his hands to fists, widening his eyes to send a disapproving message back. The steps come closer and Harry shoves at Louis' shoulder. Louis clings back and they wrestle on the floor until Harry has Louis underneath him, panting and baring his teeth at Louis. 

“Do you trust me?” Harry asks under his breath. 

Louis stares at him. “I do.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, sitting back and pointing at the bed again. When Louis isn’t moving, he slaps Louis' thigh. Mouthing, ‘ _ Go _ ’.

Louis gives in - they don’t have time for this - and rolls under the bed, staring at the spring above his face and holding his breath as whoever it is that entered the flat reaches the bedroom. Louis tries very hard not to think about the fact that the weight that pressures the mattress is caused by a dead body. 

He plants his hands flat against the floor, but his knuckle nudges something cool. Louis blinks down. The gun is staring back at him and Louis wastes no thought as he reaches for it and curls his fingers around the slick shaft. His hand is clammy. 

“You’re still alive.” A voice states. The floorboard squeaks under soles of heavy motorbike-boots. 

“I am.” Harry answers, apparently still on the ground. Louis can see Harry’s hand through the gap of the bed frame.

“Why is that?” 

“You said three days, James.” 

James huffs, annoyed. “If this is about your little blue-eyed pet, I won’t let you call him again. He’s probably glad he’s got rid off you, since he didn’t answer, eh?” 

Louis frowns, then remembers the unknown number that tried to call him and curses at himself inside his head. He won’t ever listen to the car radio ever again. However, Louis might never get the chance to, anyway. Louis closes his eyes, and breathes out as shallowly as he possibly can, holding back a cough that itches his throat. The dust under the bed tickles his skin and gets sucked in his nose as he inhales. He swallows thickly. He can’t cough, he can’t cough…

He sneezes. 

Damnit.

“What was that?” 

Louis rolls his eyes back in his head, gets a good look at his brain, then blinks them open, holding his breath and repressing the urge to sniff his running nose. 

“The people above I guess? They make weird noises the whole time, dunno.” Harry lies hastily. “Maybe, uh…you should go check?”

The deep laugh that follows surprises Louis into startling, and his muscles tense to keep still. 

“How stupid d’you think I am, Mr Brightside, eh?” James taunts. “You know who lives above this flat?” 

Harry seems to shake his head, because he stays mute and James takes his sweet time to reply, “ _Bloody_ _nobody_!” The answer is laughed. “So tell me, who else is in this flat?” There is a pause, then another chuckle, “Besides from our little but very much dead friend Ed.” 

Louis holds the gun tighter. Sweat drips from his hairline on his forehead, it slides in the corner of his eyes, the salt burns. 

“N-no one,” Harry stammers, breathless. “C’mon, James. Kill me then.” 

Well, Louis can’t let that happen. Adrenaline shoots through his body and gives him the needed push to scoot from underneath the bed. He rolls onto his side and angles the gun so the eye of it is pointed at James' leg. They make eye contact, and before James can take any action, Louis pulls the trigger and fires the gun. 

No fucking action movie could have prepared Louis how loud it is to actually shoot a gun. His ears ring and for a second all he hears is white deafening noise. Also, his arm his pushed back by the force of it and his arm strings with throbbing pain. More importantly than it that, though, James yelps, going down on his side, curling himself like a comma and holding his knee in pain. He cries out a long-lasting ‘ _ Ah _ ’ sound. It shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is. 

“Jesus,” Harry mutters, sending Louis an alarmed, wide-eyed look. 

_ Jesus indeed, _ Louis thinks, still staring at his victim. He can’t believe he did that. He just shot another human. Red blood is pouring out of the wound, pooling onto the floor and building a little glittering puddle, reflecting the lights from above. The longer Louis looks at James, the more a memory comes through thick fog until it’s a clear picture, an image in his head, and Louis gasps. “ _ You! _ ” He exclaims as James’ head rolls to the side, exposing those weird tattoos on his bald head. 

“What?” Harry asks, crawling over to James and patting his pockets. 

“Fuck…You.” James presses out. He grips Harry’s shoulders, holding him with all the strength the lad seems to have left. Harry makes a surprised noise in the back of  his throat and Louis shakes himself out of his frozen-in-place state and clambers to his feet. Kicking James in the damaged — hopefully forever — knee and pulling his hands off Harry, the guy falls onto his back with another breathless groan. 

“He was at the pub when…” Louis explains, still stunned, still staring. His lips flap without sound for a couple of seconds. “I…” He doesn’t know what to say, besides that Harry was right that it wasn’t a good idea to leave the house and well, now is not the time for this anyway. Louis and Harry share a look of understanding, then James coughs and startles both of them out of it. 

Harry releases a great exhale, swallowing and leaning over James. He gets the keys out of his pocket and spits right in James' face, twisted with pure pain. “Fuck you right back, wanker.” Harry hisses. 

Louis couldn’t be more proud of his boy. 

They leave the bedroom, Louis turning last minute and grinning cooly at the guy laying on the ground, face still pinched with pain, “I’m no ones pet, arsehole.” With that, he closes the door and they pace down the hallway. Harry stumbles and Louis is right there to catch him. He throws Harry’s arm around his shoulder and drags him along as Harry cries out in pain. 

“Fuck.” Harry groans, shutting his eyes. “I can’t.” He pants, clenching his stomach with his free hand. “I think my wound ripped open again.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Louis gulps, inhaling deeply through his nose to steady himself. 

“We’re almost outside, H, c’mon.” Louis urges, his voice low, gentle. “Gimme the keys.” 

Harry’s hand is blood drained and shaky as he holds out the keys. Louis swallows thickly, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s matted hair and accepting the set of keys. “Thank you, love.” He unlocks the door and they fall out into the actual hallway, all white walls and grey hard floors. “Can you walk for me, darling?” He mumbles against Harry’s temple. “Is that possible?” 

Harry shakes his head, pushing himself more against Louis' side, moaning. “I…It hurts so bad, Lou.” He grunts. 

Louis grits his teeth together. His heart breaks and the pieces shatter to the ground. Really, what did he think? That he could stalk into the flat, sweep Harry off his feet and they’d be out there in a blink of an eye without a scratch? 

Well, actually, Louis would have preferred that, yeah. 

They, to their blank horror, hear steps, heavy boots echoing from the walls. Fucking shit, they’ve gotta get outta here — now. No more time to waste at the dream scenario of it all, no more time to waste for panting and standing and doing nothing useful. 

Time to save their lives, Louis muses, brows pulled together in concentration. 

“Okay, lean against me.” He says unnecessarily, since Harry is already hanging off of him anyway, but. “Hold tight.”

They shuffle forward, not fast enough, but at least they are in motion. Harry rolls his head in the crook of Louis neck, breathing heavy. 

“Almost…” Louis pants under Harry’s weight. His fingers press the button to the lift rapidly, glancing over his shoulder until the ‘bling’ announces the lift is ready to take them away from here. “C’mon,” Louis urges Harry, dragging the boy into the cage of metal walls and pressing the button for the ground level. When the doors meet, Louis releases a sigh of relief. 

The doors part and the lobby is thankfully empty. They have made their way halfway through when a dark figure peers through the glass of the front door. 

Louis stops, adjusting Harry’s arm and gripping his waist tighter. 

“Harry…” Louis says, slowly, eyes fixed on the other human being. “Is there another exit?” 

“Uh…” Harry lifts his head, blinking, then his eyes widen when he sees the other person. “Fuck. I think there is an exit through the underground garage?” 

Just when they turn back to the lift, the doors open and out steps James, wobbling pitifully on one leg. The shot wound is wrapped with a shirt. All of Louis’ pity vanishes when he sees  the gun he’s pointing at Louis' head. 

“Goin’ somewhere?” James goes for a grin, but it ends up a grimace as he takes a step forward. 

Louis should’ve shot him in the throat, rather his life than theirs.  _ Too late now _ , a voice whispers in Louis' mind. Another voices questions, why Harry is so important that James wobbled all the way down here, just to finish what they started. 

“Hmm, don’t think so.” James continues, when both of them stay quiet. His heart flutters in panic as James directs the gun at Harry. “Let’s just get this over with.” James glances over Louis’ shoulder and nods at whoever is out there, then his piercing ice-blue eyes are back on them. 

Louis swallows, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

“Shoot me.” Louis dares, lifting his chin, and Harry goes stiff in his arms. 

“Oh, don't worry. I will.” 

“No, you don’t.” Louis says as calm as he can. “You won’t.” 

James lifts his thick pierced brows. 

“Louis…” Harry hisses, detaching himself and trying to stand upright on his own. 

“Do it.” Louis says, ignoring Harry, “C’mon James, leave Harry out of it.” 

“I’m after Harry, not you.”

Louis shakes his head, “This isn’t about Harry, this is about killing people and showing power, so shoot me.” 

James chuckles, taking a step towards them. The gun shakes slightly in his hand. It points directly at Louis' forehead, however. “If you’re dead, I can kill Harry  _ slowly _ .” 

Louis shrugs, trying to get the tension out of his shoulders. “Okay, whatever. You’ve gotta kill me first, though. Won’t let you get to Harry.” 

“Louis…” Harry whispers hoarsely. “What are you doing?” 

“Yes, Louis, tell us, what are you doing?” 

Louis has no idea what he’s doing He’s just going along with his damn gut feeling that hopefully has his back and not actually a death wish. Trying for casual, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jackets, his right nudging his own set of keys. An idea builds in his head as he steps in front of Harry, getting him out of the line of fire, just in case Louis really is wrong about the situation.

Harry touches his lower back with his knuckles, tugging slightly on the hem of Louis' jacket.

Louis holds the keys with an iron-grip, stepping away from Harry and closer to James.

The gun is cool against his skin, and cold sweat breaks out of his pores. He breathes in shakily.

“Do it.” 

James pulls the trigger.

It doesn’t go as Louis had planned. There is a bullet loaded in the gun and the gun fires, but somehow, Louis still is alive, squeezing his eyes shut as the ear-piercing shoot echoes in the lobby. He is still standing, his heart galloping in his chest. He blinks his eyes open. 

James is on the ground, and on top of him is Harry, both of them unmoving. 

Louis relaxes his fist around the keys he wanted to use to attack James and catch him off guard. 

Now, Louis is the one that gasps. He can’t feel his body. He is scared to speak up, to check…if…if…if. 

If…

_ No _ .

He grinds his teeth together, swallowing around the fat lump in his throat and refusing to let the tears spill over that prickle on the back of his eyes. 

James groans, blinking his eyes open, he shoves at Harry’s side to get him off. Harry rolls onto the floor and Louis just…he still can’t feel his legs, he can’t…he can’t look at Harry. So his glare fixed on James. When they make eye contact, James has the nerve to grin at him and Louis…well, he loses it. Before James can get to his feet, or whatever that dickhead had in mind, Louis is on him. 

Knee pressing into the rising and falling chest and hands around the guy’s neck, James chokes as Louis strangles him, hot tears spilling out of his eyes and landing on James' face which is turning slowly red with the absence of oxygen in his lungs. 

“Fuck you.” Louis grits out, shaking James' neck so hard that his head bangs rapidly against the ground. “Fuck you, fuck you.” He sobs, strangling that piece of shit tighter as his vision blurs completely. 

Two hands pull at his own, desperate and weak. James kicks his legs out and makes a choking noise. Louis presses harder, tighter, stronger. He pushes the heel of his hand against the hollow of James' throat, his nails digging into the skin. The kicks get weaker, the breathing more shallow and then, right in front of Louis' eyes, James shuts his lids and the chest under Louis' knee heaves one last time then falls completely still. Louis doesn’t let up though, it’s not enough for the pain he’s feeling in his heart. He wants to wake James from the death just so he can kill him over again. 

Death is not a disease, though. You can’t cure it just to get it again at some other point of your life. 

If you’re dead, you’re dead. 

Louis blinks away his tears and sniffs loudly. Swallowing, he lets up from James’ unnaturally loose neck and sits back on his calves. 

He still can't bring himself to look at Harry. 

He chokes on his own spit and covers his face with his hands, sobbing into his palms as his shoulders shake with the force of his strangled-cat-like cries. It’s the only sound he can hear, it’s the only thing that is audible in the lobby anyway…since…since—

Louis breathes in shakily and traps the air in his lungs for a long moment. When he gets a glimpse of the dead guy he’s still sitting on, fresh tears spill over and he clambers to his feet, feeling disgusted all over. His hands burn where they came in touch with the guy's skin. 

Then, because Louis can’t avoid it any longer, he sinks to the ground next to Harry’s body.  

“Harry?” Louis rasps, blinking. “Harry?” He whispers again, his voice so much higher than usual. “Harry, wake up.” He says, taking Harry’s hand between his own shaky ones. “Don’t leave me, we’re a team.” Louis says, taking in the ashen face in from of him, the brown curls spread out on the floor like a halo. Louis swallows, sinking his head against Harry’s chest and shuddering a sob. 

“I’m sorry.” He cries. “I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

He doesn’t get an answer.

Inhaling the familiar cologne that has almost faded from Harry’s skin, he sniffs. 

Something touches the back of his hair, fingers ghosting over the nape of his neck and Louis goes still, not daring to move or breathe. 

“You’re a…bloody...idiot.” A voice says, barely above a whisper, and Louis' heart picks up, fluttering, unbelieving, shocked. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, but the fingers are still there, touching, and Louis cannot make up that voice so clearly. 

With a violently beating heart, he looks up. 

Harry looks through his half closed lids at him, a tiny smile curling at his pale pink lips. 

A new waterfall of tears wash over Louis' cheeks. “Harry?” 

“The one and only,” Harry coughs, hand falling to the ground. 

“Oh my god,” Louis whispers, cupping Harry’s cheeks, eyes flickering over Harry’s face. “Oh my god, you’re  _ alive _ .” 

Harry tilts his head up slightly and Louis bends down, sealing their lips together in a gentle, careful touch, Harry's lips dry under his. Louis doesn’t dare to do more, still unbelieving that this is real, not some made up visualisation in his mind.

The touch feels very much real, though, and the way that Harry’s breath ghosts over his lips is all Louis needs to gather the rest of his strength. He leans back, giggling manically, “Okay, okay.” He says more to himself. 

Give him a moment, he had thought his boyfriend was dead. 

“Let’s get the fuck away from here.” Louis says then, getting to his feet and slinging his arms around Harry, dragging him upright. “I’ll carry you.” He announces, slinging an arm under the back of Harry’s knees and muting Harry’s protest with a chaste kiss. 

When Louis turns them to the door, he blinks. There, through the glass, is a little round hole and Louis doesn’t have to think twice to know that it’s from the bullet. What is more shocking, is the body laying outside. Louis had almost forgotten out there was another person waiting for them to leave the building. That very person is lying on the ground, when Louis steps closer to the door, careful not to let Harry drop. He wrinkles his nose as he takes in the shot-through forehead. 

“Jesus,” He mutters under his breath. Harry, who has his nose pressed against Louis' neck, blinks his lashes open.

“Whass’ it?” He slurs with a cracking voice. 

“Nothing, just…close your eyes maybe?” 

Louis adjusts Harry in his arms, shifting his weight so he can get the door open. he steps around the dead body and Louis' stomach turns at the display of the shot wound. He tries not to gag. 

The sun blinds him, after spending so much time in a dimly lit room, and he takes a moment to breathe in the air, blinking to get used to the brightness outside. With heavy feet and wobbly knees, he walks down the solid pavement though it feels like it's vibrating under him. 

Harry slings his arms tighter around his neck and kisses his exposed skin lightly. Louis' heart flutters. 

“Harry I gotta put you down, now.” He murmurs softly, “I need to unlock the car and get you inside.” 

Harry swallows loudly but nods, and Louis lets him slide out of his grip. 

“Whose car is this?” Harry asks, leaning against the door heavily. He clenches his eyes shut as another wave of pain visibly washes over his lanky body frame.

“My mum’s.” Louis replies absently, unlocking the door to the back seats and swinging it open. 

“What?” Harry coughs.

Louis sighs, tiredly. “Long story.” 

After a little fight about Harry being in the backseat and not the passenger seat, Louis closes the door carefully so as not to hurt Harry’s long feet. 

When Louis is seated on the leather seat and has brought the engine to life, he allows himself a sigh of relief. He speeds away from the building, trying to get the image of the three dead bodies they’re leaving behind out of his head. 

“How did you find me?” Harry murmurs over the humming of the smooth engine, once they are on the main road. 

“Zayn helped, but the address was wrong.” Louis’ brows pull together. He makes a left turn and drives over red, uncaring. “I…uh,” To be honest, Louis doesn’t want to talk about this right now, but… “When I went to the flat that Zayn told me about, there was this man, dunno. His granddaughter…she was…” Louis gulps.

“Ed’s girlfriend.” Harry finishes for him.  

“Yeah…” 

Neither of them say anything for a long while. Louis doesn’t want to ask, but then again, they are on the run now, so Louis needs to know what happened. “So, Ed…” 

“They killed him.” Harry bristles, “For standing up to them.” 

Louis swallows. 

“I saw.” Harry continues. “They— they…just…killed him. It was so fast, Louis…like, they shot him, just like that. I couldn’t…” Harry wheezes and Louis wishes he could do something to comfort him. His hand grips the steering wheel tighter. “I couldn’t do anything.” 

There is a moment of heavy silence. 

“I am so sorry, Haz.” Louis murmurs, driving onto the motorway and passing all the other cars. “I am so sorry.” 

The rest of the drive is hard. Harry sobs his heart out in the backseat while Louis tries to hold back his own tears and not crash the car as his hands shake violently at the sound of Harry’s cries. Louis really, really, wishes he could do more than make soothing sounds that are probably not even heard. 

“They said it was the last deal,” Harry croaks a long while later. Louis has to hold his breath to hear Harry, he's speaking so quietly. “A huge one. And...they said I could — I could leave after that.” Harry cries. “Ed overheard...wanted to do it with me and leave too…” 

Louis' heart clenches. 

“It...it didn't go as planned. Hawk-” Harry coughs. “Hawk worked for the other gang as a spy.” 

Louis' foot jerks forward, sending the sensitive car jumping. “Fuck…” Louis hisses, knuckles white from the way he's holding onto the wheel. “What? That's why he was in Manchester?” He blinks. There is a ringing in his ear, a low sound that gets louder the longer Harry stays mute. “Harry, Harry are you still with me?” Louis tries to get a glimpse of him in the rearview-mirror but only gets a peek at Harry's brown boots. 

A soft inhale comes from the backseat and the skin around Louis’ eyes relaxes a tad. 

“Yeah...just-” Harry coughs again. “It hurts, Lou. I think I wanna…” He mumbles. “Hm, sleep.” 

Louis' heart picks up. “Baby, stay with me.” He says. “It's not far anymore, we-” He swallows, licking his dry lips. “Tell me. I wanna hear your pretty voice, yes?” 

“Hmm…”

“H!” 

When there is no reply, just shallow breathing that only gets carried to Louis' burning ears because he is straining to listen, all his instincts set on fire. “Harry, c’mon tell me!” 

“Love you...goin’ go...hmm, sleep.” 

Louis bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he can taste blood. He's on the motorway now, nowhere to turn and stop. Blindly, he reaches through the gap between the front seat, patting whatever he can get of Harry. 

Harry's leg kicks out when Louis pinches his kneecap. 

“Lemme...schleep…” 

“Stay with me.” Louis says. “Tell me more, please H.” His brain swirls with the racing of his thoughts, trying to find something to keep Harry with him. “Harry, how much salvia do humans produce in their lifetime?” He asks, voice rushed. 

“Hmmh?” 

Louis repeats the question, his voice slower and steadier than before. 

Harry chuckles breathlessly, then groans in pain. “Two…” He bristles. “Swimming pools.” 

Louis' lips curl in a slight smile. “Good, yeah, that's crazy innit? Don't you think it's insane how much that is, baby?” 

“Lou…”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry, I ruined your mum's back seat.” 

“What?”

“S’red…” 

Shit, fuck. Louis speeds past all cars, way over the limit. He hits the pedal, the engine giving a quiet murmur as the car picks up the pace. 

“Almost there, almost there.” Louis says, as he catches a glimpse of the sign at the motorway line. 

Louis parks the car with shrieking wheels as he hits the brake. The engine is still humming under them as Louis throws the door open, clambering out and ripping the door to the back seats open. His breath hitches in his throat when he sees the blood that pools next to Harry’s curled body. 

“Fuck.” 

Harry’s lids are clenched shut and his hands are pressed onto the wound that’s leaking blood. 

Louis rounds the car, opening the trunk and getting the SOS packet out. He has no idea what to do, but letting Harry bleed out is no option either. His fingers shake as he unzips the small orange bag with the white cross printed on it, and inhales deeply when he sees the promising white gauze and a small bottle of clear liquor. He sends a silent thank you out to Lottie, who made their mother and Mark put those items in their cars, and wastes no more time just standing there and looking at the things in his hands. 

He climbs into the car, kneeling on the ground between the rest of the front seat and the bench of the back seats. “Harry darling, can you hear me?” He asks, watching Harry’s eyes move behind closed lids. 

Harry’s pale lips give a little hum. 

“I’ll roll you onto your back now, yes?” Louis murmurs, spine prickling with the lack of response he’s getting. “Yes?” 

When Harry doesn’t move or acknowledge Louis in any way, his fingers clenching and unclenching on his lower stomach, Louis gives slight pressure to Harry’s shoulder, easily rolling him onto his back. Harry’s hand falls onto the seat with a dull thud. 

Louis rolls up the ripped shirt, staring at the open wound that stretches from Harry’s hip to the middle of his stomach, the tip parting the wing of the beautiful butterfly that’s smeared with glistening blood, too. 

Louis gulps, breathing in through his nose to ground himself, not to mess this up and not to gag aloud. 

He soaks a tissue with the clear liquor and with a fleeting glance to Harry’s ashen face, he starts cleaning the wound. When the tissue makes contact with Harry’s parted skin, he hisses through the back of his teeth in pain, his foot kicking out. 

Louis swallows nothing and bites the tip of his tongue as his brows inch together in concentration. “I’m sorry, this must burn.” He murmurs. “Ah…” He hisses with Harry as he dabs the Harry’s wound and the skin around it. The once white tissue is now coloured in bright red. Louis' stomach turns.

“Harry, you with  me?” 

“Hrrggh.” 

“Good, yeah.” Louis allows himself a small smile and wipes the sweat off his forehead as he lets the tissue fall to ground. “Is that a new language?” He asks, trying to distract Harry and himself as his fingers roll the gauze open. “Hhhhrrrrrhhh…” He growls back at Harry. 

Harry huffs, and Louis choses to believe it’s an amused sound. Harry’s lashes flutter open as Louis presses the bandage on his wound, weak fingers brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Louis peeks at him, seeing a small, barely visible smile on Harry’s pale lips before concentrating back on the most important task at hand: saving Harry’s life.

When the wound is cleaned and covered in two layers of bandage and the blood has stopped leaking, Louis sits back on his calves with a quiet, tired sigh. 

“Hmm, my hero.” Harry mumbles, fingers tugging on a strand of Louis’ matted hair, a smile ghosting over his face as a lone tear spills over the rim of his eyes. Then his dark lashes flutter shut and his stomach heaves with a shuddered inhale. “M’so tired.”

Louis presses the heel of his hand against his own shut lids. “You can’t—” He brittles, cutting himself off. “You can’t sleep. I can’t let you sleep.” 

Tears sting on the back of his eyeballs and then he sniffs, the sound loud in the inside of the quiet car. “I…” He sobs, then calms himself, cupping Harry’s hollow cheek. “Look at me.” 

Harry hums, but obeys. Slowly, his eyes open, his gaze unfocused, zooming in and zooming out on Louis’ face like a camera. 

“Baby, you look so cool.” Louis whispers, thumb caressing Harry’s cheekbone. “So cool.” 

Harry hums. “Yeah?” He croaks. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Louis nods quickly, tears wetting his own cheeks. “So cool. With your battle scar and…” He chuckles wetly, “Gonna look like a proper gangster, eh? Nobody’s gonna mess with you.” 

Harry groans low in his throat. “Now, everybody’s — dead…” He croons, then inhales shallowly again. 

It takes a moment for Louis to get what Harry’s on about, then he laughs wetly, “And, they’re driving past my old school.” He sings softly, sniffing. “He’s got his gun, he’s got his suit on…”

Harry smacks his lips together. “Such a…” He tries, frowning slightly, “good…song.” 

“Yeah, yes.” Louis says, “Great, amazing, gotta love that band.” He laughs, voice going high at the end, “Aren’t they from Manchester, sweetheart, huh? How amazing is that? We should see them sometime live, yes?” 

Harry nods. “Yeah…” He breathes. 

Louis allows himself a smile. Then he stands up as good as he can manage in the small space without bumping the top of his head on the roof of the car, turning his upper body through the gap of the seats and turning off the engine. He closes the door of the back seats with a muted thud, glancing out the window for any prying eyes. There are some other cars in the parking lot of the petrol station, but he parked his car at the far end, so no other cars are next to them, all closer to the box-like station. 

Then, he takes Harry’s neck in his hands like he’d hold a baby’s head and lifts him a tad. He sits down on the seat, bedding Harry’s head in his lap and carding his fingers through his tangled curls. He drops a chaste kiss to Harry’s clammy forehead. Louis softly dabs the drops of sweat and tears off Harry’s cheeks, forehead, and chin, wiping some pearls of sweat off Harry’s upper lip with the sleeve of his jacket and dropping another kiss to Harry’s damp hair. 

Harry hums at that, fingers twitching. 

While Harry sleeps, Louis has time to think about what to do, to try to formulate a plan that gets them out of this mess alive. 

There is no way they can go back to Macclesfield or stay somewhere in Manchester, but with a glance at Harry’s covered wound, Louis knows they couldn’t just walk into an airport looking like they do, dingy with dirty and clothes soaked with blood. 

Harry is too fragile to stomach a flight on a plane. Also, Louis thinks they’d call security and probably hold them hostage until the police showed up, asking questions none of them can answer  without getting sent straight to prison. It's all too risky. 

Perhaps they could drive until they run out of petrol and then find some cheap motel somewhere on the coast. And when Harry is more stable, they can make their way across the ocean and hide somewhere in Europe. The five grand in Louis’ jacket burns to be spent. 

They'd leave the people they care about behind. His heart clenches when the thought shoots through: Lottie, pregnant with Tommy’s child. Maybe Louis won't ever find out what they name it, maybe he’ll never even see a picture of the little bean. 

Lara, Niall, Liam, Zayn, Jay… -  _ Anne _ , who’s finally free and in a safe place, Gemma, who maybe is oblivious to the full truth of why her brother won't contact her anymore, — hell, Harry and Louis won’t make any more stupid jokes about Niall’s boss. And Louis won’t ever get a chance to see Nick, Eleanor, or Stan again.  

They'll leave so many places behind, too.   

The house,  _ their _ home. They will never see it again, never enter it and breathe in the familiar smell of home and safety. They won’t get to eat pancakes in the kitchen whilst the sun beams through the window, there won’t be any more nights spent sitting on the counters with hot milk and honey in their bellies. No more laughter shared in their cloud of a bed underneath the covers.

Neither of them will get to sit on the terrace when the sun sets, smoking and eating something probably unhealthy. They won’t walk the streets of Macclesfield, won’t ever get to see Travis again, take him on long walks through the fields. The fields they slept on under the open sky, sharing secrets whilst watching the stars sparkle above them, eyes searching the black space for a shooting star, excitedly whispering wishes in each other's ears when they got a glimpse of the glimmering tail of one. 

_ Their _ tree with  _ their _ names carved in the the wood caged in a wonky heart, will be forever there, but they won't be. They won’t ever get the chance to trace their fingers over the rind, whilst Travis barks at them for their sappy behaviour. 

They won’t ever go to the cinema - the place where they first met, where they went for their first date. 

They won’t go to the Diner, anymore. They’ll never get to banter good-naturedly with Rose or groan in unison when the taste of the delicious food explodes in their mouths, all whilst Niall watches them fond at each other with a blinding smile from his spot behind the counter. 

All of their favourite places will only be memories now. They left their stamps on them and maybe the places will remember them too. 

All the people they'll leave behind will keep them alive in their memories. Also, all of them love Harry and Louis too much to be mad about their absence. 

Like Niall once said, both of them deserve better and now that the door to the final exit has opened, they must make a run for it. 

They are free like wild birds now, can fly wherever they want. They can spread their wings and discover new places, places they talked about. Amsterdam with its small rivers winding through the city and pretty houses. Paris in all its charmful colour. Berlin and its famous wall. 

Of course, there is no other option than to flee from Manchester. And, even if Louis has no idea what their future beholds, he knows three things: 1) it'll be hard; 2) he'll be with Harry; 3) no matter what struggles they have to go through to survive, it'll be worth it. 

The most important of it all: They are alive, two beating hearts and brilliant minds. They will make it work; they are partners. They love each other, they have each other, and wherever Harry goes, Louis follows. 

Louis isn’t scared of what lays ahead when he looks down into Harry's sleeping face and draws little circles on Harry's cheekbones. Louis isn't scared something will go wrong because the worst has already happened and they made it. 

He knows, together they can survive anything. 

Harry makes Louis strong. 

There are new memories to be made, new universes to discover and oceans to explore. 

In Louis' mourning heart at the loss of all the people, the places, there is a flutter of happiness too. 

Deep inside he knew they'd end up on the run, and he guesses Harry knew too. 

If they want to stay together and get out of Simon’s claws, they’ll need to become ghosts. 

“I love you.” Louis whispers to Harry's sleeping figure. “We’ll make it work. I promise.”   
  


 

***    *    ***

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, there is only one chapter left aka the epilogue! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, if you liked chapter 21, please be so kind to leave a comment and/or kudos. <3


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Oh well - it's coming to an end. 
> 
> a massive thank you to the most wonderful beta serena (@tempolarriefix) - I can't thank you enough, you made this all more enjoyable, thank you for agreeing to beta this long, loooong fic, I would be nowhere without your help, so thank you a thousand and a million times more! love you! x
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the epilogue, happy reading! x

 

**[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/6btx2fqcfx0fcce1348l62a13/playlist/6aQlKEJUQ7E4pnJpvVPDH1) **

***     *     ***

 

Louis hums under his breath, flicking his fringe to the side and peeking through his lashes at the decrepit warehouse. He huffs, already knowing the others are waiting for his late arse to finally show up. He was meant to arrive at seven, but now it’s nearing eight and he didn’t even have time for a shower.

With a last check over his shoulder, he pushes the rusty door open and breathes in the dust that greets him. He coughs into his fist, the sound echoing off thin walls and through the empty hall. From the entrance he can make out a bunch of people huddled together on the ground, sleeping bags covering their lower bodies and thermos cans placed in their gloved hands. It reminds him that he not only couldn’t shower, but also missed out on his morning tea.

He makes his way past them, nodding once and shooting them a quick grin, getting mumbled words and some happy calls in return. He buries his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, though it doesn’t do much for the cold that hangs in the building, and walks towards the small office placed below the staircase that no one ever uses - Louis doesn’t even know what the second level holds.

Louis opens the door, which scratches over the floor with protest, and blinks against the sudden light that beams in through the open window.

“Finally, you twat. What took you so long? Took a sightseeing tour or what?”

Louis huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes and letting the door fall shut, lock clicking into place. “Fuck off.” He says, unfazed, and shrugs his left shoulder forward, shuffling closer to the broad wooden table placed in the middle of the cramped office. “I overslept. Someone…just didn’t wake me up, hmm.” He grins at the amused chuckle he gets from behind the table, though his attention is on Alex, who’s sitting on the window sill, suckling on a blunt with lazy swoops of his long, nearly white lashes that are such a contrast to his sharp hazel eyes.

His cheeks hollow as he takes another slow drag, causing his cheekbones to jut out more.

“Am I excused, mum?” Louis asks with an easy smile.

“Fuck off.”

“I take that as a yes.”

“Next time bring brekkie, m’starving.” Alex mutters, then continues staring out of the window, uninterested in Louis’ presence now that he has tattled Louis for his lateness and the lack of breakfast in his hands.

Louis looks at Harry, who’s sitting on a plastic chair, boots propped up on the wooden table and jaw working on a piece of gum that Louis gets a good glimpse of every time Harry’s lips part for another loud smack.

They make eye contact, both of their smiles growing to grins. Harry’s eyes dance in amusement at him and Louis narrows his own in betrayal.

“You looked so cute.” Harry finally breaks and laughs, folded hands on his stomach bouncing up and down with the vibration of his chest. “I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

Alex huffs, annoyed, though to be honest Alex has to be really quiet on this one - he’s even worse than they are. Louis pointedly ignores him and hops onto the table with one of his arse cheeks, swinging the leg that's more hitched up freely back and forth, eyes never leaving Harry’s face.

“That’s cute baby, but you know you can’t just let me sleep in since…” He trails off. “We have to work?” He wrinkles his nose. “And, I don’t appreciate waking up alone.” He pouts dramatically, prompting Harry to laugh again. He smiles at the angelic sound. It still is his favourite melody after all.

“Whatever. If you’re done making heart-eyes at each other.” Their eyes widen in unison at that, both chuckling unabashedly at Alex’s muttered words. “Where the fuck is this idiot?” He fumes, sucking harder than necessary at his nearly burned down spliff before throwing it out of the window and rubbing his hands. “See, that’s why we shouldn’t let the youngest do this sort of thing-”

In that moment, the door swings open and a compact sized boy steps into the room, what was once an official office for some wood-cutting-company. “Sorry, sorry, I’m late, I know.” He apologises with lifted palms. “The police almost got me.”

Louis hisses through the back of his teeth at that, eyes roaming over the brown-haired seventeen-or-something year old in front of him.

“Nothing happened.” He resumed as they all stay mute at the news. “And, here it is.” He throws the stack of cash on the table next to Louis’ kneecap. “It’s all from last night.”

Alex and Louis share a look. However, it’s Harry who speaks up, remaining in his relaxed position, lazily pushing his foot against the table and swaying back and forth with the chair. “That cannot be all.” He simply states, letting his gum pop at the end of his sentence with a sharp dimpled grin that dims a second later. “There has to be more. C’mon, mate.”

“There isn’t!” The boy exclaims, throwing his hands up in outrage. “I’m not lying.”

Louis and Alex lift lazy eyebrows at each other.

“Winston won’t be okay with that, s’just a nice little warning.” Harry carries the conversation further. “He doesn’t like thieves and isn’t very fond of filthy liars.”

Alex’s hazel eyes narrow knowingly. They sparkle at Louis but when they cut to the boy in their office, they turn cold like two ice-coffee coloured ice cubes. He hums, itching the hollow of his throat and wiggling his finger in the air, pretending to ponder over the options listed in his head, though he’s probably thinking about what to get for lunch.

“I see.” Alex drawls. “Louis.”

He doesn’t have to think twice about what Alex wants. Gracefully, he hops off the tabletop with a cheerful smile and stands in front of the boy, who is now shaking with fear.

“Anything in your pockets I could hurt myself on?” He asks. Harry snorts a chuckle behind him, and Louis’ lips stretch to a lopsided smile.

“No, no, I- uh, I...well, yes?” The boy rambles, blinking rapidly with big dark eyes. “A...a knife.”

“Hear that, Lou? It's a knife. Scary, scary.”

The boy’s eyes -  Louis thinks his name is Fred, but who knows? Seriously - dart to Alex at his taunting words, then they rush back to Louis.

Louis holds back for about three-seconds. Fred looks like he’s going to piss himself any moment now. Then, he lets a chuckling laugh escape his lips and claps the boy on the shoulder. He startles at the touch but doesn’t shake Louis’ hand off him.

“We’re just messing with you.” Louis giggles, ruffling the boy’s brown hair.

The boy releases a big breath of relief, body noticeably relaxing as Harry and Alex chuckle along.  “I’m new.” He says, probably meant as an apology for his fear.

“Trust me. We know.” Alex mutters, back to his unimpressed, bored self. “Go mingle, make some friends.” He says with a shooing flicker of his wrist. “Knock yourself out.”

When the door shuts behind the boy, they break out in another round of laughter. When they have calmed down, Louis rounds the table, his bum sat on the edge, facing Harry and Alex.

“I’ll never get used to that.” Harry admits, blowing his gum into a bubble. Louis pokes it with his finger and it pops, smearing all over Harry’s lips, which pout under the rubbery white layer.

“Having power?” Louis grins, his knee nudging Harry’s outer thigh. “Being in-charge? A super hot badass? Messing with the young ones?”

“I feel bad.” Harry’s voice his muffled by his gum; he tries to catch it with his tongue, drawing it back into his mouth like a vacuum.

“Nah, you don’t.” Louis rolls his eyes. Alex snorts.

“No, I don’t.” Harry agrees, fingers walking up Louis’ thigh. “Hm…”

“We aren’t that harsh. We’re just fuckin’ with ‘em, nothing wrong with that.” Alex says, matter-of-factly.

“I know, I know. But did you see his face?”

“Yes, Harry, we were present.” Louis grins, shifting his left leg more into Harry’s touch. They smile at each other for another beat, then Alex clears his throat. Harry tilts his head on his neck, looking at Alex upside down, jaw still working on that fucking gum like a cow.

Louis lifts his eyebrows at his friend.

“Before you guys get naked,” Alex says knowingly, flicking Harry’s nose. “Lemme count the money real quick and then you get the room for your needy, dirty arses.”

“We can count the—”

“Louis, I won’t let you throw the money at Harry whilst he’s stripping again. To witness that one time was already too much.”

They all laugh at the memory, but sober when there is a promising knock on the door.

“Finally.” Alex mutters with a sigh. “Come in!” He raises his voice to be heard through the closed door.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late. We had some trouble with the other gang, whatever.” Tristan rolls his blue eyes, brushing dirt off his jeans and leaning back against the closed door. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, fixing Alex with a heated gaze on the spot.

A beat of silence passes.

“Maybe…” Louis clears his throat, hitching higher on the desk’s surface and straightening his back. “Harry and I should leave the office?”

“Shut up, Lou.” Tristan barks. “I’m here for business, you filthy bastard.”

“Hey,” Harry frowns, “ _not_ nice.”

“Awh, Harry!” Louis coos, patting his boyfriend's cheek. “Defending my honour?”

Harry catches his hand between both of his. “Always.”

They share a quiet smile and only tear their eyes from one another when Alex slides off the window sill.

“Business, eh?” He asks, coming to a stand in front of Tristan, who levels him with a unresponsive look. “What is it? What did the others do this time?”

Louis widens his eyes at Harry, tugging on a loose curl that has escaped his navy-blue bandana, freckled with white dots.

Harry nods.

In unison they get up from their spots. Harry stretches, joints popping with the motion, and Louis fetches the pack of Alex’s cigs from below the window.

“See you later, fuckers.” Louis grins at them brightly, kissing Alex’s cheek wetly and ruffling Tristan’s short hair, though he dodges Louis’ hand with his forearm like he's under attack and sends him a cold, snarled glare. However, both of them step aside to let Harry and Louis pass and Alex winks at him over Tristan’s shoulder before the door closes.

“I don’t understand what Alex sees in Tristan. He’s like one of those terrier dogs, ready to bite at any given moment.” Harry muses, draping his arm around Louis’ shoulder as they walk through the building, which has emptied whilst they messed around in the office. Only a small group is left and they don’t really pay attention to them at all, chatting between themselves quietly.  

“Maybe Alex is into that, though.” Louis stifles his giggle on the collar of Harry’s old leather jacket. Harry drops a kiss on top of his hair.

“I know I’m into it.” Harry growls, nibbling at Louis’ earlobe. Louis wiggles his fingers against Harry’s waist.

“Don’t I know it…” Louis sighs, grinning up at Harry. “Maybe…” He slows their steps. “We’ve got some time left?”

Harry, however, shakes his head with a cute pout that Louis catches between his fingers. “See,” Louis muses, “Should’ve woken me up.”

“Hmm…tomorrow.” Harry licks the pad of Louis’ finger. “Definitely tomorrow.” He adds as an afterthought, holding the door open and guiding Louis outside.

They make their way to Emma’s, a small bakery tucked in between run-down buildings that represent the majority of the area, and breathe in the sweet sugary smell of baked goods.

“Hello boys!” Emma greets when it’s their turn to order, bright green eyes flickering between them. She puts her gloved hands on her wide hips, a friendly smile on her rounded face. “What is it this morning?”

“Surprise us.” Louis smiles at her.

She huffs a breath, rolling her eyes, “Why do I even bother to ask?” She faux-grumbles. “Already packed some leftovers for you two.” Emma says, the skin around her almond shaped eyes wrinkling as she gets a brown paper bag from beneath the worktop. “It’s on the house, have at it.”

Harry frowns, accepting the bag nonetheless. “You’re too good to us.” He says with a dimpled, enchanting smile that brings colour to Emma’s chubby cheeks. “Thank you, Em’s.”

She waves an airy hand. “My pleasure darlings, since you keep the trouble out of my street.”

They exchange one last smile before taking the booth at the far end of the small bakery. It’s their usual spot, always reserved for them in the morning and evening. From here they're hidden from view, the velvet headboard of the bench blocking any eyes that could be peering in through the large window, taking up almost the whole wall next to the glass door.

“What yummy goods did we snatch this time?” Louis tries to peek into the bag, but Harry coddles it close to his chest with a cheeky grin. Louis pouts.

“Close your eyes.”

Louis makes a show out of it, sitting more upright and smacking his lips together before letting his lashes flutter shut and wiggling his shoulders up and down and back and forth, smiling close-lipped at Harry’s giggle.

There is a rustling, then a sweet kiss is planted on his mouth. Louis hums deeply in his throat. “ _Hm_ , delicious, Emma has outdone herself.” He murmurs into another kiss.

Harry grins so wide that Louis pecks his teeth instead of lips, and then something that is definitely _not_ lips nudges his mouth and he opens up and bites into a soft, buttery pastry.

He hums whilst chewing, opening his eyes again. “Apple-turnover.” He groans, sending a thumbs up at Emma, who's watching them with an amused, fond smile from her spot behind the counter.

Harry bites into his own apple pastry, pleasured groan matching Louis’.

“S’good.” He says with puffed out cheeks, a single crumb dangling off his chin, Louis wipes it away with his thumb, sticking it in his mouth before taking another bite of his own apple turnover.

They make some more chit chat over their late breakfast, talking over some business plans for the week: meeting with their boss; getting the young ones to work faster with picks and locks; visiting the other Eldest that took over a different area of the city; robbing a petrol station outside town and helping Tristan to settle in his new flat — the usual, basically.

“I think we gotta go.” Harry says, plopping the last bite on his outstretched kitten tongue and chewing slowly, licking some glistening grease off his fingers and glancing at Louis through his butterfly-wing-lashes. Louis darts his own tongue out to wet his suddenly very dry lips, really wishing they had more time. He’d like to spread Harry out on their bed and take what he hadn’t gotten this morning. He imagined Harry would like that too, seeing that his lids lower at Louis and his eyes darken a shade.

Harry’s hand wanders to his thigh and Louis suppresses a shiver. He glances around the bakery - no one is paying them any attention. They don’t have a restroom for customers here, but he’s sure he could convince Em’s to give them the key for the employee bathroom, claiming it’s an emergency, which, to be fair, it kind of is since his cock is perking up in interest already and it’s been too long since Louis has had his lips wrapped around Harry.

“Maybe…” Louis starts, “the others can start without us? If two are missing what’s the big difference?” It is risky but they have survived greater than an angry Alex, or well, Winston for that matter.

Harry’s hand creeps up, then his fingers flutter teasingly over the outline of Louis’ dick. Before he has any chance to lean closer, seek more of Harry’s touch, his boy draws his hand away and a flicker of desire and the knowledge they carry responsibility comes through.  

“As much as I want to-” Harry starts, pulling away even more. Louis stops him.

“Please, Harry?” He pouts, feeling needy and desperate. “You started it.” He adds, jutting out his bottom lip even more. Harry catches it between his fingers before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose.

“All right.” Harry nods, releasing Louis’ lip and planting a kiss there too. “Let’s be quick, before-”

Harry is cut off by the ringing of Louis’ mobile, both glancing down at it rather than at each other. Harry leans back against the seat, moaning and closing his eyes. “I swear…” He mutters, not bothering to finish.  

Their desire is blown out like a candle in the wind and Louis thinks back to a time when he never carried a phone around. It was much easier then to ignore the world and get lost in Harry. These days it seems they are never truly alone and they listen to either of their ringtones more than actual music.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Louis groans dramatically, ignoring the call and sending a quick message instead, before pocketing it and tapping his forehead against Harry’s shoulder for a split second, “Well, so much for a round of blowies. Tomorrow you’ll wake me up extra early.” He says, adding his last sentence more pointedly.

“Promise.” Harry assures him, smiling slightly. He caresses Louis’ cheek. “ _Definitely_ a promise.” Harry says as Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s curls and tugs softly.

Louis returns his smile slowly. “Good.”

“Now, eat your the rest of your breakfast.”

Louis does as he is told and rushes to finish the last bit of brekkie, guessing there won’t be any food for the majority of the day. Last time it got him into trouble, his blood-sugar so low, his head was dizzy - the result was he got a good punch to his jaw and Harry has never stopped making Louis eat everything on his plate ever since. Rubbing his hands together, trying very hard to ignore the lingering throb between his legs that just won’t go away, he swallows around nothing. “Let’s _go_ then, let’s not make the Captain wait.”

“He hates when you refer him as Captain.” Harry laughs, his cheeks starting to lose their pretty rosy colour and his eyes clear of the lethalness they held. Gracefully, he slides out of the booth, offering his hand and pulling Louis to a stand.

“He isn’t around and still able to cockblock, I have every right to call him whatever I please.” Louis lifts his brows, unimpressed. “Or you gonna tell on me?”

“It’s like he can sense it when we think about doin’ something other than obeying,” Harry muses, then chuckles, “but if I can’t get any fun with you, I might as well get some fun out of you guys fighting. It’s always entertaining.” Harry rolls his eyes, both of them strolling to the door, waving their goodbye over their shoulder to Emma, who grins at them and wiggles her chubby fingers. “It’s like one of those talk shows, where they trash-talk each other until one flips the table or dramatically exits the stage.”

“I’ve never flipped a table.” Louis purses his lips.

“Winston did, though.” Harry reminds him with a chuckle. “Remember?”

“Oh-ho!” Louis lights up, letting the door fall closed behind them. “I do! I do! That was sick.” He snickers into his palm, eyes curving to half-moons. “Winston can be so scary sometimes.”

“He’s all bark, no bite.” Harry blinks unimpressed. “Simon was more terrifying.”

Louis sobers at the mention of Cowell and laces their fingers together, tugging Harry across the road. Harry notices his slip and rolls his eyes. “Sorry.” He mutters under his breath. “I—”

“Sh, don’t apologise.” Louis says, lifting their knotted hands and kissing the back of Harry’s hand. “All good, now. We're safe as one can be.”

  


*     *     *

 

“D’you think…” Louis exhales a puff of smoke, slowly blinking up at the sky. “Clouds float only in one direction?” When no instant answer comes from his left, he frowns slightly, prompting, “Harry, this is serious,” softly into the night air.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” Harry says with a sigh. “I reckon it depends on the wind?”

Science. That makes sense. Still —

“But, like…I’ve never seen clouds floating from the right to the left, isn’t that weird?”

“It is.” Harry nods. “You think, if you’re underwater you still can see the stars?”

Louis rolls his head to look at Harry. “One day we should try and find out. See for ourselves, hm?”

Harry shoots him a quick smile, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers. Louis gives him the fag, watching Harry’s lips stretch around the butt and shivering with Harry’s sucked inhale. Harry closes his eyes, exhaling through the gap of his parted lips. His face is relaxed and free of any worry lines on his forehead. His eyelashes flutter prettily. Louis takes in the grey smoke that stands out against the darkness surrounding them. The orange glow of the stick is a lovely petite thing in the dark blue, like a big firefly.

“Did you know that a duck’s quack doesn’t echo?” Harry asks, flicking the ash, which gets carried away by the breeze, and taking another slow drag.

“Really?” Louis smiles, tickling Harry’s side. Harry coughs on the smoke in his lungs because of the fit of giggles that bubble in his chest. He hands Louis the cig, still giggle-coughing.

“Yeah,” Harry says, voice rough, “and no one knows why.”

“Hm…wanna try that one too?”

“Let’s see if we can get a duck.”

“Perhaps Alex knows some duck-dealers.” Louis laughs, shifting on the hard ground closer to Harry’s body, resting his head on his bulging bicep.

Harry snorts. “Duck-dealers. I don’t wanna hear you complaining about my puns ever again.”

Louis pouts. “I love your puns.”

“Because I’m so punny?”

Louis groans, shaking his head as good as he can while laying down and taking the last hit of the fag before throwing it away. “Still my favourite comedian.”

“Seriously though, ducks are cute. I want one.”

“What’ve I started?” Louis stage-whispers to himself in faux-annoyance.

“We could call it—”

“ _Lalalala_ .” Louis sings loudly. “Can’t hear you. _Lalalala_ , oh what was that? Think Alex is home, let’s go check if he brought some supper.”

“Hey, hey.” Harry laughs, holding Louis in place as he makes a poor attempt to get up. “Alright, alright, I get it, no duck.”

“Bet you Tristan would just throw it on the grill anyway.”

Harry makes a shocked noise at that, then sighs. “Yeah, he totally would…” He wrinkles his nose adorably. “Poor non-existing duck.”

Louis pokes Harry’s dimple and kisses his exposed neck, snuggling more into Harry’s side. “You’re so bloody cute.” He mumbles against Harry’s skin. “My cute, lovely boy with a golden heart.”

Harry presses his nose into Louis’ hair. “How much time do we have before the terror comes back to annoy the shit outta us?”

Louis laughs, then sobers when realisation dawns on him. He lifts his head to make eye contact with Harry. Harry lifts his brows expectantly. “He’s staying at Tristan’s.” Louis sing-songs, bobbing his head side to side with his words, watching as slow understanding spreads on Harry’s glowing face.

“No way.” He breathes, surging forward and sealing their lips together in a soft kiss.

“Yes way.” Louis murmurs, just a breath away from Harry’s mouth.

Harry cups the back of his head, bringing Louis on top of him, knees planted next to his hips. “Fucking finally.” Harry says before letting his tongue dart over Louis’ bottom lip.

“Hmmm…all night for ourselves…”

Needless to say, they make good use of their uninterrupted time.

  


*      *      *

 

“Darling, you look like someone died.”

“S’my natural morning-glamour.” Louis grumbles into his tea.

“Late night, eh?”

Louis smiles against the ceramic rim, humming nonchalantly, though his cheeks warm at the memory.

“I see.” Alex drawls, propping his biker-boots on the wooden table, the legs of it shifting over the floor with the weight he puts on it. “Harry’s playing Sleeping Beauty then?”

“I’m up, I’m up.”  

Both of them watch Harry rush into the kitchen of their shared shabby flat, tucking the hem of his sheer shirt into his black and tight-like-a-second-skin trousers and ruffling bird nest on top of his head. There is a white dot of toothpaste on his cheek and his boots are still undone.

He has never looked more beautiful.

Harry turns his back on them, pouring still hot water into a mug over the instant coffee that Harry swears is his morning elixir, so disgustingly bitter it could wake one from eight feet under.

Harry takes a slow sip, face twisting at the taste before he swallows and the grimace is replaced by a slow smile when he makes eye contact with Louis.

“Anyway…” Alex coughs, gaining both of their attention, “You’ll take over A. Tris and I will do B tomorrow or so. Winston wasn’t too pressuring about that.”

Louis places his mug with a soft clink on the table. “Why can’t we take over plan B?” He frowns, blinking the last bit of sleep out of his eyes. “I could use some more rest before I get back into the game.”

“Wait, how’d you know what he’s talking about?” Harry asks, frowning.

“I don’t.” Louis says matter-of-factly. “I hope it’s something fun, though.”

Alex rolls his eyes, kicking slightly at the table. The edge stomachs Louis’ gut and he grunts at the applied pressure. “Do you ever listen to me? I’ll throw you out, both of you.” He points a finger at Louis. then Harry. “Remember who saved your arses before you speak.”

Louis adjusts himself on the chair, bringing some air between him and the table. “How could we _ever_ forget? You bring it up at every possible occasion.”

“When we left the window open.” Harry ticks off. “When we’re too late.” He sighs, Louis laughs quietly. “When we forgot to buy your favourite cereal.”

Alex pouts, crossing his arms like a moody child. “Firstly, cereal is important, what else am I supposed eat when it’s late at night and I can’t sleep?”

Louis bobs his head, pondering. “Fair.”

“Also, lateness is a filthy trait.” Alex continues, “And our heater doesn’t work so I’m just looking out for all of us not to get a fucking cold. Lord knows we can’t go to the fucking doctor.”

“Alex.” Harry says, clutching his heart. “You must care so much for us!”

Alex smacks his thin lips together. “Weirdly enough, I do.”

Harry and Louis share a quiet smile, both of them grateful for the man-boy sitting in their kitchen. He truly saved them after all.

Louis doesn’t like stepping down memory-lane, isn’t too fond to re-live the pain of the day he found Harry in that flat, out of his mind and hysterical. Louis killed a human being that day, and Louis almost lost Harry to death too.

After he watched Harry sleep for what felt like hours, he had scrubbed over his tired face and sat back in the driver's seat, bringing the engine alive and speeding down the motorway, only stopping a few times for petrol and snacks on their way to Kent. It was the longest drive of Louis' life; he was exhausted from the lack of sleep and to this day he has no idea how he was able to pull through. He rested his eyes and brain and bones for a handful hours, dozed off, then gathered himself and brought more distance between them and Manchester. Each mile driven was physically felt, his heart clenching for each memory, each place, and each person they were leaving behind, but the beat of his heart thundered for the weak boy laying on his backseat and that was all the strength Louis had needed.

In Kent, they had booked a room in a cheap motel for a week, both of them needing the rest before they drove from Kent to France, fifty kilometres through the Channel Tunnel. From Calais they drove three more hours to Paris and then — Louis’ plan ended there, all he had wanted was to leave England. It worked better than he had dared to hope, but Paris was expensive and their five grand was almost entirely used up on  petrol and the motel.

They pulled through, however. They used Jay’s car as a home and thankfully found a doctor who took pity on them to have a look at Harry’s wound.

A year was spent just zipping through Europe, tramping, sleeping under bridges, starving like dogs, and almost freezing to death when winter broke.

Escaping a gang of hundred of members is a fucking pain in the arse. The police was…or probably is still looking for them, but all they found was Jay’s car that they had to leave behind in Paris, because they had no petrol money left, whatsoever. Perhaps the police think they were robbed and murdered, since Harry’s blood was still stained on the fabric of the leather seats.

Throughout the year on the streets, when Louis swore the world was against them, they found their shelter in a cosy library on a rainy day. The old lady who worked there only gave them a short wary look and that was it – most of their days were spent huddled inside a dark corner, reading most of the time. Louis never cared for books much, but watching Harry frown and concentrate so deeply at the written words he was reading reminded Louis a lot of the time when he found Harry painting outside Harry’s house and Louis suddenly fell in love with stories Harry read to him. They were mostly fairy tales since he missed out on that when he was a child. At first he had put up a fight, saying he was too old for those kinds of stories now and Harry should pick out a murder mystery instead, but Harry thought it might brighten their days, while Thrillers would cause more paranoia than they already endured when walking the streets at night to find a quiet, safe place they could sleep for a handful of hours. At last Louis had to admit, he actually liked hearing all kinds of different tales. Maybe it was Harry’s deep voice that did the thing, but at some point Louis wanted to hear more and more...and more. So they took turns, either Harry was reading out loud, murmuring the words to Louis or the other way around. It was nice until they became restless, knowing they couldn’t spend too much time at one place and moved on.

Which turned out to be a massive mistake. They ran into a street gang which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, if one of those fuckers wouldn’t have recognised Harry straight away. They had to make a run for it, leaving their newly won safe haven to wander around cities neither of them were familiar with and never, ever resting. If they had lost hours of sleep before, they were walking on dead feet then. The only rest they got was when they took the bus to somewhere, which didn’t happen often. Otherwise, one of them slept for half an hour while the other watched out for danger; like with reading, they took turns.

They felt a bit lost until Harry had the idea to charm their way into a shady underground club, just to have access to a clean toilet, fresh and clean tap-water and some warmth. The plan was to stay until it closed, then they’d hide and sleep on the crappy sofas that were probably sticky and disgusting. First it turned out better than expected, thanks to Harry’s dimples and enchanting smile and Louis’ wits and flutter of eyelashes they even got some drinks on the house - non-alcoholic, of course. However, they were going at it at the dance floor having a competition between them who could do the worst dance moves when a lanky guy with nearly white hair and light brown eyes found them. His name was Alex, he said, and that big mouth from two weeks ago told on them. Which lead to Zayn finding out where they were. The world apparently really is a small place and fate probably took pity on them. Zayn playing God and sending an Angel to save them from freezing to death or any other danger that lurked in the streets, just waiting for them to make a mistake or be careless for a moment.

Alex didn’t tell them much about his history with Zayn, told them only that Zayn had saved Alex’s life once when he was just starting out as a pup in the drug business, hence he owed Zayn a major favour.

Harry and Louis had never dared to ask further questions, but they had their suspicions about the full story behind the relationship between Zayn and Alex.

Alex took them in, shoved them in his car and drove all the way from their location to France to England. Crossing the English border was like they could breathe a bit easier again. It felt like coming home, no matter how scared they had been about Simon finding them, they trusted Alex enough because Zayn would never do anything harm to them.

Alex brought them to Winston, the face of the crime organisation they work for to this day and probably will forever.

Liam once said, if ‘ _you’re in, you’re in’_ and, well, it’s true. There are only two ways out, either death or prison and Louis and Harry, both, are too much in love with each other and life to give up any of it.

The organisation works different from Cowell’s. They are a family in the proper sense of the word: no one gets left behind, no one gets punished for mistakes or if they got mugged — which they don’t anymore, at least not that often. They earned respect around the area they deal, steal and live in, and no other gang dares to mess with them.

Which all leads to…

“Don’t we have a kiosk to rob?” Louis wonders aloud, scratching his chin in thought.

Alex lifts his brows, clicking his tongue and glancing at the ticking clock hung up above the door frame. “They open in ten minutes.”

Louis does the math in his head, humming while he ponders over how fast they can get there. It’s in the centre of town, and it’s only four in the morning, which means no prying eyes around to witness their little robbery. Hopefully. You never know.

Harry sighs. “We should snatch some gummy bears on the way out.”

Louis’ face splits with a sunny grin so suddenly his cheeks hurt. “Good thinking.” He snaps his fingers then gets up from the chair. “Let’s go kiddos, we’ve got a kiosk to rob and some drugs to sell. Cranky teenagers to feed and a boss to please.”

Harry unties the bandana from his wrist, tying it instead around his head in a practised motion. Louis licks his lips as a peek of milky skin of his stomach is revealed. Harry notices, winking at him, both of them lingering back in the kitchen as Alex trots into the poor excuse of a living room, each step causing a groan of the overused floorboards.

“I love you.” Harry mouths at him.

“I love you.” Louis mouths back.

 

*      *      *

 

“I fucking love you, my beautiful darlings. I fucking l-o-v-e you, _dickheads_ .” Alex slurs, arms draped heavily over Louis’ and Harry’s shoulders, swinging them from left to right. “Fucking nuts. Fucking _amazing_ !” He kisses first Harry’s cheek, then Louis’ temple. “The best, the fucking best! _Insane_ !” He laughs the last word, then hiccups, letting his arms fall to his side. _“We’re fucking legends!”_ He screams with his blonde head thrown back.

In a way Louis wishes he’d shut up before someone sees them, but then he looks at Alex and the pure joy on his face and he thinks, maybe it doesn’t matter so much. They are all fast runners by now.

It is safe to say that their robbery was a grand success, which is quite the understatement. They stole much more money than they could have ever expected along with the kiosk’s entire stack of rainbow gummy bears, cigarettes and, huh — strong, strong liquor. The robbery led to Winston being impressed out of his shiny Italian dress shoes and the three of them got so much cash, their eyes bulged out of their heads.

Louis watches the half-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s swing in Alex’s right fist and then glances at the nearly empty bottle of Russian Rum clenched in his left. Alex spilled some in his giddiness - at least Louis sure hopes so. Alex will regret getting shitfaced when he has to get up at three in the morning. However, right now it’s amusing to watch his friend sway from side to side, singing off key to some song that Louis can't identify because the words come out as one slurred mess.

It’s a glorious night, and even the moon shines down at them proudly.

When they’re back in their flat, Harry tucks Alex in his bed and Louis listens to them fight from their own bedroom.

He yawns, falling onto the mattress which squeaks with the weight of his bouncing body and stretches his legs, rolling his ankles and letting his joints pop.

“Fuck, feel like we have a child.” Harry says from the doorway, untying his bandana and placing it into the drawer that they mostly use for their knick-knacks. “Fucking exhausting.” He groans, pulling off his boots and letting his leather jacket fall to the ground. Louis watches him upside down, silent. “A very drunk child.” Harry continues, peeling off his sheer shirt and hanging it on the door’s handle. “A drunk child that wants to call his lover for a round of very adult-y activities.” He grins cheekily at Louis.

Harry ruffles his curls, sweeping them to the side before getting his long legs out of his black skinnies. At the lack of Louis’ response he lifts his eyebrows, face twitching in confusion. “What?” He asks, putting his hands on his bare hips.

Louis' eyes travel from the long, thick scar that stretches from Harry’s right hip to the wing of the beautiful inked butterfly, then they snap to Harry’s face.

“Come here.” Louis mumbles, shifting onto his side, propping his elbow on the mattress and bedding his cheek on his palm. He pats the spot next to him on the covers.

Harry smiles and lays down with a little huff of hot air that fans in Louis’ face. Harry kisses Louis’ nose. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He smiles lopsided.

“What a day, huh?” Harry asks, face still bright from the afterglow of their events.

“Do you miss Macclesfield?” Louis asks quietly, seeing the happiness dim in Harry’s eyes.

Harry sighs, sitting up and crossing his legs like a pretzel. “Of course, I do.” He says, brows furrowed.

“Do you regret running away?”

Harry shrugs, fingers running through Louis’ hair. “No. We didn’t have  much of a choice, did we?” He croaks, averting his eyes to his lap for a moment then smiling at Louis softly. “Why’re you asking?”

Louis sits up and leans back against the headboard, crossing his legs, his big toe poking Harry’s naked thigh. “How weird is it that Alex reminds me of Niall and Lara, both?”

Harry hums, then smiles. “True, he does.” He agrees easily. “But, where is this coming from?” He pouts. “At least we get some updates through Alex.”

“You missed your mother’s wedding.”

“You missed your niece’s birth.”

Louis sighs, opening his arms. Harry reacts immediately, scooting closer and folding himself in Louis’ embrace, his nose tucked in between Louis’ neck and shoulder. The familiar heat of Harry’s body is calming. “It’s more than we can ask for, Lou.” He mumbles against his skin. “I’m just happy with knowing that my mum is doing better and married to a good man. Robin is nice.”  

“A police officer.” Louis snorts, chuckling. “It’s kinda ironic.” His eyes roam over their little bedroom, taking in the cracked open window that shows nothing but the brick wall of the building next to theirs. His eyes linger on Harry’s ring collection on the junk drawer, right next to a stack of books, on top is Grimm’s complete fairy tales edition.

“At least she’s safe and so is your family.” Harry says, then yawns. “Also, Sarah-Louise is a beautiful name for Lottie’s baby girl.” Harry smiles.

“Very true, that.” Louis kisses the top of Harry’s hair, breathing in the scent of faded smoke and bonbon-vanilla.

There is a beat of silence, the rhythm of their hearts the only sound in the quiet room. They hear Alex cough from across the hall, both chuckling when they hear him curse loudly. A tap of water opens, the rushing of the water coming muffled through the closed wooden door and Louis sighs again.

“I wonder if Lara likes going to University.” Louis says. “I can’t believe she actually got in.”

Harry slaps his chest playfully. “Obviously she got in, she’s going to be the best social worker there is.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Helping teenagers to get away from the stuff we sell them…”

“Maybe we could ask Winston if we could switch? Take over only robberies and stuff?” There is a good portion of concern with his words and Louis stills, his eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“We can’t complain, Harry.” Louis murmurs at last, his heart beating a bit too fast. It wasn’t easy to sell the shit that his brain confused with something he needs to survive. But seeing it as a bad habit and not something that was part of personality made it easier to resist the urges that lingered in the lower part of his brain which is responsible for basic survival instincts and needs such as eating, sleeping and breathing. It isn’t that hard anymore. Mostly he never thinks of doing it again, knowing it won’t change a thing and only gives him short-term relief.

Louis hopes Lara is able to help a lot of young people in the future. She’ll be brilliant at it, understanding on a deeper level what those teenagers go through and stopping it before it’s too late.

“No, we can’t.” Harry agrees quietly, kissing Louis’ shoulder.

“Also, Niall as manager of the diner?” Louis shifts the topic slightly lifting his brows, impressed and proud that Niall had worked his way up to become more than a part-time-worker.

Instead of a positive reaction or even a laugh from his boy, he gets a small sigh. “They all found their path, made it happen, changed…” the ‘ _except us_ ’ is left unsaid but heard nonetheless. They were left with nightmares and scares and bad memories, but, at least it’s more tolerable than how they lived before. Right?

“Not quite, Harry. Zayn’s still working for Cowell.” At Louis’ reminder Harry closes his eyes and sighs.

“At least my disappearance helped him a bit.” Since Harry had left, Zayn took over Manchester, moved up in rank and is one of the eldest now, which means he has to look after his Manchester clan but isn’t involved much in street selling anymore. As far as he told Alex, all he has to do is look after money related things and transport it from A to B. Liam is still at University, graduating next year and until then Zayn and Liam chose to live by the saying “what is meant to be, will be.”

Harry and Louis both truly believe if they can make it, Zayn and Liam will too. They have one of the strongest bonds ever, both too stubborn to give up what they have, even though it can be dangerous and stupid, but love does that. Louis understands that now too.

“We have a future too, Harry.” Louis murmurs softly. “Somewhere out there waiting for us.”

Harry lifts an eyebrow, studying his face for a moment, then a small smile forms on his lips. “Oh will you look at that.” His smile turns to a smirk. “You see a future?”

“With you by my side...yes.” Louis answers, not missing a beat, only his last word spoken with a shake to it. Emotions start building up in his stomach, and he heaves a sigh.

Harry kisses him, opening Louis’ mouth with his tongue and Louis drops his head back, giving Harry more access. Their tongues meet with a playful roll and Harry moans, a shudder running down Louis’ spine as Louis’ hands wander along his shoulders to his neck and finally cup his heated cheeks.

When they part, their chests heave with swallowed breaths. Louis glances at Harry’s eyes, then they drag to his pink lips and Louis licks his own, tasting fresh mint on them.

“Enough nostalgic talk for tonight…” He whispers, tugging on a loose curl beside Harry’s cheek. Harry leans in again and Louis’ body is engulfed with desire.

And just like that, Lara, Niall, their unknown future, and everything else becomes background noise as Harry starts stroking his tummy over the fabric of his tee. His heart flutters and starts thundering so heavily in his ears that the sounds of the past and the voices of worry in his head disappear completely and the only noise is the blood rushing through his veins.

His heart stops when Harry sits to straddle his lap, his inner thighs caging Louis’ legs, and the applied pressure on his cock causes his heart to tumble out of his ribcage. Harry leans back and their eyes lock.

Evergreen, so bright and full of love and lust that Louis' body fills with warmth.

After all these years together, they had become the most stable thing in his life.

Harry had become the only person in his life, whom he trusts blindly and entirely; new friends, new places, a new family here and there, but Harry. Without him Louis wouldn't get to experience any of it, without him Louis wouldn't have the strength to get up in the morning and do the shit they have to do to survive.

They’ve made it through it all.

When they kiss again, fireworks explode behind Louis’ closed lids and when his lashes flutter open, he inhales deeply, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Harry’s waist. 

“Harry.” He whispers.

“Hm?” Harry licks his lips. “What’d you want baby?”

“I want to marry you.” The words leave his mouth and fill the room with so much heat that Louis starts to sweat, his hands suddenly clammy as Harry blinks at him with wide eyes. Louis swallows drily. “Will you marry me, Harry?”

Harry’s lashes flutter and his dimpled cheeks turn rosy. “Yes.” He breathes. “Yes, yes.” He cradles Louis’ chin, bringing their lips to meet. “Yes.” He exhales against Louis' wide smiling mouth. “ _Of course._ ”

Louis cups both of Harry’s wet cheeks and only then he notices not only Harry is crying, but he is too. He sniffs loudly, his lips stretching to a wide smile. “I love you Harry, so much. I can’t…” His smile dims.

“What is it?” Harry whispers.

“We can’t get married.” Louis voices aloud, his thumb smoothing over Harry’s strong jawline. “We…we…” He huffs, laughing without humour. “We’re on the run, we can’t…”

Harry’s smile doesn’t disappear; it stays like a promise on his lips as he closes the gap between them. Louis kisses back, but his heart clenches in pain at the reality shock.

“Baby.” Harry mumbles, prompting Louis to look at him. “We don’t need no piece of paper from the city hall.”

Louis' smile returns, full blown and giddy. Harry beams right back at him and Louis knows, no matter if they do get married in the future or stay engaged for the rest of their lives - they are more than just lovers; they are a dream team, partners in crime.

 

After all, their souls are sempiternal.

  


***  *  *  THE END  *  *  ***  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. It's the end. It's over. I can't believe it's completed now. I hope you enjoyed the epilogue. It was the hardest thing for me to write. 
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who invested their free time reading this fic, left kudos and comments. The overall support amazed me, truly. It really means the world to me to know you liked what I put out there. It motivated me in every aspect of my life and brought some light into my day-to-day life. It is a huge motivation to keep writing and I have a lot more stories planned (which I'm totally excited about). So, really, thank you guys. 
> 
> Come by for a chat, you can find me on tumblr and twitter as @harryeatsburger
> 
> loads of love xx


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